


Prime Rib

by ArgentAconit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent, Alive Erica Reyes, Alive Vernon Boyd, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Scott McCall, Alternate Universe - No Nogitsune, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Building this as I go, Danny knows about werewolves, Distance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Freeform Incubus History, Freeform Magical Rituals, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Incubus!stiles, Jackson didn't leave for London, M/M, Magic, Magic!Stiles, Mr.Stilinski isnt good until he is, Multi, My plural for a group of succubi and incubi is cubi, Puppy Piles, Sex Magic, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Snuggle Puddles, So much kissing, Stiles likes to cook, Top Derek Hale, Top Stiles Stilinski, Travel, Wings Horns Fangs AND Claws, and tails, bed sharing, stiles kisses everyone, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:23:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentAconit/pseuds/ArgentAconit
Summary: “No Scotty, don’t give me that look, just- listen, alright? Do you have root beer and pizza when you really just want like a prime rib in a buttery garlic sauce with creamy mashed potatoes and a tall, tall glass of wine?“I really want the prime rib right now, and as amazing as root beer and pizza is, I’ve had a lot of it - and it has been phenomenal! But it’s also been like… Carbs and sugar all of the time, and I need something filling if you catch my drift. You’re the pizza and root beer. I need to find prime rib and I’m not going to make you become prime rib. There are just some lines that I refuse to cross with you, buddy.”





	1. So It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wanted to go ahead and point out that the way I portray Incubus semantics and dynamics and all of that is kind of a personal view on it all. There will be instances of Stiles kissing other people besides Derek, and while I know that kissing can sort of count toward the couple tags, I wanted to focus on Stiles' eventual relationship with Derek. So... I'll leave the other 'pairings' out for now unless you guys would rather them be listed! (:
> 
> Also, I have no idea how frequently I will update this, so please be patient with me! This is a brainchild and it has essentially run off into a little story that's still half developed. I hope that you enjoy it anyway! Read on if you so please~

He felt it on his eighteenth birthday, that sharp pull in his stomach, the rising hunger that only grew as he watched people from the corner of the room where he stood, sucking down fruit punch to try and appease this sudden need. Lydia held his party at her family’s little getaway house by the lake, and it was fantastic here, really it was. People were swimming and coming inside to enjoy the food and everyone looked like they were enjoying themselves- awesome- but at the same time, he knew like 10 of the people there. Out of the near forty that showed up. It wasn’t a Lydia Martin party unless it was done right, and it was only done right of there were enough bodies around that they spilled out of the living room and kitchen naturally.

 

Which, score for Lydia. That wasn’t the point though.

 

No, see, the point was this gnaw that pinched sharply in his belly and twisted around inside of him like he had ingested a handful of needles that were sucking away his strength and consciousness and his ability to just enjoy things. His eyes flickered between Danny in his expertly placed trunks and the afterimages of him flittering past, all smoke and brilliant light blue and- Stiles licked his lips. He raised the red cup back to his mouth and took a long draft from it, leaning back against the wall that stole his warmth and radiated it back into him.

 

“There you are! What do you think you’re doing, loitering around back here like some creep?” Lydia reprimanded him and took the cup out of his hand, sitting it on the long table he had been essentially guarding for the last two hours. “You are supposed to be out there swimming and dunking Scott and telling me how wonderful this party is.”

 

Stiles hummed lowly for a moment, feeling his eyes drag over Lydia’s exposed collarbones and the soft rounds of her shoulders. A velvety green wisp rose from her skin, and thankfully it wasn’t as intense as what he saw around Danny or he was certain he would be slapped into the next week. It felt like his head was full of cotton and there was a slowly intensifying thrum on either side of his head. He felt like he should do what she told him, go outside, flirt with the thirty people he didn’t know, swim in the cool lake water to wake up. Instead, he closed his eyes and groaned as he dropped his head back against the wall, “Hey Lyds? I think I need to lay down for a bit. Someone’s cologne is giving me one killer headache- Think I can crash in one of the back rooms for like an hour?”

 

Cool fingertips pressed against his forehead and cheeks shortly as she tsked at him, “Really Stiles, I throw you one of the best birthday parties and you have to get all sick on me.” She sighed and her breath tasted like a strawberry vanilla smoothie against his skin. “Come on, you can crash in my room, it has blackout curtains.”

 

“You are literally my hero- heroine? Kind mistress? No, that sounds like some kind of BDSM thing, and while it’s great heckling Jeckle in there, I’m sure he’d really try to rip my face off if he thought I- mmmpff.”

 

The sweet bliss of a duvet cradled his head as he tripped into the side of the bed, landing face first into it. Lydia sighed above him and pushed his gangly limbs around until he was near fetal-position with a pillow over the side of his head, “Just shut up, Stiles.”

 

“-r the light of m’life,” He mumbled as he raised and then dropped his hand down onto the pillow, squishing it closer to his face as Lydia shuffled around in the adjoining bathroom. He listened as she filled a glass and rattled a pill bottle, shook some of the medicine out and then replaced it in the cabinet. The bed dipped slightly and his pillow was carefully taken from him.

 

The room was blessedly darker and he felt better already, “Here, take these. Prescription strength, it’ll take the edge off of your migraine.” He slapped his hand out for her to drop the medicine in his palm before swallowing the two oblong tablets dry and then reaching for the glass she had procured, “It still amazes me that you do that.”

 

“Years of practice and no time to pour OJ before racing to school- gimme,” His fingers wiggled until the glass was pressed into his hand. He masterfully poured some of the water into his mouth without bothering to sit up and she snorted at him.

 

“I’m guessing that one is from years of sleeping in and being too lazy to prevent yourself from choking.” She took the glass back and stretched over him to put it on the nightstand, “I’ll come to check up on you in an hour. You better be feeling better by then or I’ll have Scott throw you into the lake.”

 

“Love you too,” He smiled and cracked his eyes open to look at her, only to get a face full of pillow as she got up and gently closed the door behind her.

 

Needless to say, his party had pretty much ended at that point. Whatever Lydia gave him had efficiently knocked him out, sending him into a blissfully void-like dream state. At least, that is, until he woke up looking down at Scott- in Lydia’s bed. He flexed his hands out of impulse and realized he had trapped Scott’s wrists above his head in one hand, and the other was firmly pressing down on his sternum, “What the fuck?” He hissed.

 

It wouldn’t even be that bad, except that Scott’s eyes were glowing, and Stiles could _see him in the dark_ \- no, not just the two red orbs he usually saw, he meant he could see all of him. From his tan skin to his crooked jaw, even the dark red and black trunks slung over his hips… That he was sitting on. “ _What the hell?!_ ” He scrambled off of him and tumbled into the floor with a hiss and heavy thump.

 

“Stiles?” Scott’s voice sounded off. Breathy and awed and – dazed, he was definitely dazed.

 

Stiles scrambled further away from the bed and grunted as he backed into the corner of Lydia’s desk. It dug into his shoulder and he flicked his tail in agitation. Whoa, hold up- _tail_? He screeched as it swayed in tandem to what he willed, “Scott, what the fuck is going on?” Surely the alpha wolf would know, right?

 

He looked up as a dark head of slightly curly hair lifted from the foot of Lydia’s bed to look at him, “Dude, since when did you get so good at kissing?”

 

“… What?”

 

~~~

 

It took researching in three different bestiaries, searching the realm of Google, and finally a middle-of-the-night-visit to Deaton’s Clinic to finally figure out what he was. He hoped it was some silly little curse or a prank-like spell from some witch that saw him as an interesting yet easy target, but as it was in Beacon Hills, it turned out that not everyone was human. Including Stiles. Had he mentioned how irritating this was? He was supposed to be the human! The spark or whatever- now he was a god damn Incubus.

 

He sighed loudly as he fell back on the exam table, only to hiss at how cold the metal was, “So what, I feed off of people’s nightmares and souls now?” He muttered.

 

Deaton hovered into his line of sight and flicked a pen-sized flashlight between his eyes, making him grimace as it forced his pupils to contract tightly, “Not particularly. Though I see you becoming more popular in the near future,” He pushed Stiles’ chin down and looked at his tongue and as far down his throat as he could, “Well, for a newly awakened Incubus you seem fairly healthy, Mr. Stilinski. How are your cravings?”

 

“Great, so I’m going to seek out prey now to eat their arousal then. Just _awesome_.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and kicked his feet again in a childish outburst of agitation.

 

“Your cravings.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you,” He dropped his hands and stilled his legs, though his tail continued to whip viciously beside him. It only slowed minutely as he tried to focus on his senses and the gnawing in his belly, “Like I haven’t had lunch and breakfast, and dinner is running late, I guess. I could eat two burgers and a pound of curly fries without a second thought and still want a milkshake afterward.”

 

“So you’ve already fed on someone, then? I’ll take it that means you haven’t killed them, considering there haven’t been any uncommon reports from the hospital or the morgue,” Deaton scribbled something on his clipboard and Stiles bore his teeth at the idea of being one of Deaton’s new supernatural science experiments.

 

“Apparently I played a strong game of tonsil-hockey with one Scott McCall before I had any idea what was going on.” His face pinched at the idea and now any time he and Scott were near each other it felt kind of awkward and uncomfortable. Sure, they swore on the bro-code and never spoke of that one venture in eighth grade but that promise clearly broke the night Stiles basically pounced on him and showed Scott just how good he had gotten over the last four and a half years. Which he could be proud of later, without demonstrating it to Scott.

 

“That would explain why he isn’t dead then,” Again, more scratches scribbled quickly over the clipboard and Stiles resisted the desire to sit up. The good doctor didn’t say he was done, and Stiles would rather not let the metal table cool off again, please and thank you! He was shirtless and his pale skin could only take the shock of cold metal so many times before he snapped.

 

He jerked when a hand wrapped around his tail and ran down to the end where a flat spade wriggled uncomfortably in the grip, “Hey! Warn a guy!” He pushed up onto his elbows and shot Deaton a glare but the doctor was more interested in the item trapped in his hand.

 

When he pinched one side of the spade shape Stiles whimpered and tried to yank his tail away, only succeeding because Deaton loosened his grip enough for it, “Your nerves have connected well to your new tail, that’s good.” Stiles soothed the appendage as he shot another look at Deaton’s back. “I’ll make a talisman to hide your new attributes. Come back in the morning, and try not to eat anyone.”

 

“Gee, thanks…”

 

~~~

 

Deaton eventually caved and gave him a general rundown of how his life would turn out now that he had this lust that was always burning under his skin. He was going to need to feed, frequently. At least for the first few months to fill the well in his body, and then he could ease up. Which in the language of Scott McCall, that meant he had a serious case of ‘the Incubus munchies’ and he won’t come down from his supposed high until he was full to the point of barfing.

 

The interesting part about it all had been Scott volunteering to help take the edge off of his hunger. “Man, I don’t want you going around killing people, you know that just wouldn’t be cool. Besides, I need practice.”

 

Ding, ding, ding, there was the real answer for his readiness. “I don’t think you’re going to forget how to kiss your girlfriend while she’s out of the country.”

 

Scott just rolled his eyes at him, “Kira would appreciate it, Stiles. You need someone to help anyway. Apparently, Deaton thinks you’re better off with werewolves, so consider yourself my leech,” Stiles just rolled his eyes right back at him and pulled at the loose strings on his new leather bracelet, making sure it stayed in place.

 

“Yeah, she probably would, you use too much tongue.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“So, Lydia has insisted on taking me shopping at the mall now that all of my shirts are pretty much too small. You gonna come with? I’ll let you raid my old clothes and pick out what you want to keep.” Stiles snatched up his keys and slid past the partition with ease, holding it open so Scott could follow through.

 

Scott sent him a lingering wounded glare before sighing, “Yeah, I guess. We’re stopping at the food court though, you’re not the only one with a big appetite.”

 

Stiles snorted at that thought as he shoved open the glass door and walked around to climb into his Jeep, “I think my appetite is a little bigger than yours now. And I’m not going to chow down on Thumper or Bambi if I get out of control, I’ll just go for the local population of sentient human beings or supernatural that pose as humans. You sure you want to go to the food court with me being all brand new and learning how to prowl in the night?” Scott made a face and Stiles twisted the key in the ignition.

 

“Ugh, finneeeeee!” He rounded and pointed a finger in Stiles’ face, “But you totally owe me lunch! Lasagna- and not the health food kind you make for your dad either. Extra meaty.” He seemed proud of his solution, and Stiles figured if anything they could use it as an excuse to slip out of Lydia’s steel-like grip when she eventually has them toting around fifteen bags each.

 

“Deal. We’ll swing by the store and drop everything off before we meet up with Lydia.”

 

~~~

 

Turns out that Lydia wasn’t bad at dressing him, he found out. Stiles twisted and turned in the changing booth as he examined the deep grey v-neck. The wide black stripe across his stomach and the black square pocket were both nice touches. He didn’t think he would ever like skinny jeans but the banshee found some with enough pocket space that he could still comfortably carry his wallet, phone, and keys. To top it off it actually showed off his ass, which yes, he thought was one of his best assets, pun intended, “Come _on_ , Stiles!” Scott whined as he slumped beside the door, “I’m hungry!”

 

“You’re always hungry,” Stiles called right back before popping the door open so he could lean out and give Scott the last three outfits Lydia had pushed on him, “I like the first two shirts, the collar on the tank top is too big. Let me change back and you can go get a smoothie or something while I pay for this.”

 

A whistle caught his attention and he whipped his head around to find Lydia leaning into Jackson’s side. When did he get here? “There’s a real boy under all of those layers after all,” Jackson quipped.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes at him, but Lydia stepped forward to appraise her work. She brushed his hair out of his face and hummed thoughtfully, “If only I could get you to put some extra effort into your hair.”

 

He leaned back and made a face at the idea, “You know how I feel about crusty hair. Besides hair wax is god awful, can’t stand touching it.” Lydia twisted her finger around in a circle and he groaned but pranced around for her, knowing it would get him out of there faster, “Happy now?”

 

“I’d be happier if you didn’t act like such a kid while Jackson is here,” Lydia deadpanned. It forced Stiles to level a look at said werewolf and clench his hand tighter around the door frame.

 

Really he didn’t care to open up around the jerk. After all, he lost some of his venom recently – ha- but Stiles had gained something new in the last week and he found that if he acted like he didn’t want Jackson to be there he’d be less inclined to try and suck the guy’s face off. “Well, you know, maybe if I didn’t suddenly think he looked like a greasy burger with extra bacon I wouldn’t feel like I needed to leave.”

 

Lydia’s eyebrows rose as a curious expression came over her face, “You didn’t eat before you came here, did you?” Stiles frowned and she sighed, “Stiles, you can’t do that- there’s too much temptation here.”

 

“Don’t you think I know that? There’s a reason why I’m not going to the _food court_ , Lydia!” He hissed quietly, “If I’m around more than two people right now I start eyeing people like I’m going to _eat them_.”

 

Scott came back holding the small stack of clothes Stiles approved of, with a frown tugging at his lips, “You hungry?” Curse werewolf hearing.

 

Stiles’ eyes slipped toward Jackson who had turned to peruse the sunglasses nearby. He swore he could almost see his ears perking up at the news, “Yeah. Yeah, I am. I’m not going to chow down in the middle of the mall though, so just let me change and we can get out of here. I have enough clothes for a week, that should be enough, right?”

 

Lydia’s look told him that he was dead wrong. He let out a deep sigh and stepped back enough to close the flimsy door to the changing booth so he could change back into his original clothes, before thinking better of it. The shirt he wore to the mall was too short now and his pants had been mimicking it with the addition of being too tight around his hips. So he sat down and pulled on the only things that seemed to fit anymore- his shoes. “Just hang the clothes on the door Scott and go get a snack,” He heard some shuffling and the telltale sound of hangers scraping over aluminum and textured plastic.

 

“I’m helping you learn control, you know,” Stiles looked up to see Lydia’s designer heels standing at the edge of the door. He knew that - really he did. But how could she expect him to just learn to control his urges three days after coming into his abilities? What even were all of his abilities? Just what, sucking down souls and arousal with nothing to show for it? He needed to look through the book Deaton gave him.

 

“Stiles?”

 

“What? Yeah, hold on,” He grabbed up his clothes and emptied the pockets before stepping back out and snatching up what they decided looked best on him, “Let’s get these to the register.” Stiles smiled at her lopsidedly and weaved between her and Jackson, reminding himself over and over to tell the girl at the desk to scan his jeans and shirt and take off the ink tamper-pins. He didn't mind the colors blue and red, but he also didn't want his dad to give him that disappointed look when he thought Stiles was trying to walk out wearing clothes he didn't pay for. While he was also stained in spiderman colors. Batman was way cooler.

 

He leaned on his forearms and talked with the cashier idly, willowy fingers twisting and turning as he managed to get a giggle out of her. When she reached behind him to get to the tag behind his neck he had to swallow and focus on the wall of shoestrings behind her head. She smelled sweet and warm and god he hoped it was her perfume. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips. She flushed prettily and he stepped back so he could fish the tag out of his waistband, holding it out to the handheld scanner she clutched. “Let me bag these for you.”

 

Stiles watched her put his old clothes in a white plastic bag before dropping them into the store-branded bag with his other purchases. And of course he would be tested even further because she rounded the counter with the tamper-tag remover and hesitantly reached out to pick up the edge of his shirt. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath as she fit it around the round button shaped tag on his jeans, “Sorry, I know this is weird,” She laughed uncomfortably and pushed the trigger to separate the sides. Her hand was quick to take the pieces and deposit them on the counter before she did the same with his shirt sleeve.

 

He fished out the money he owed while she fought with the stubborn plastic and deposited the correct amount of change on the glass surface, “Trust me, it’s fine, I’ve had worse attempts made to undress me,” Wait, what?

 

Jackson choked behind him and Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes at him again. Instead, he smiled pleasantly at the blushing cashier as she finally got the security tag off of his shirt and resumed her position safely behind the glass counter. He felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders now that he had a little more personal space that he could control, “Thanks for shopping with us!” She grinned and ducked her head as he took his bag and nodded at her. He took his receipt and noticed a scrawled out phone number on the back. Seriously? His eyebrow popped up out of pure shock.

 

They slipped out of the store and he let out another deep breath, “That was uncomfortable,” He muttered. Lydia and Jackson just passed by him, whispering to one another as he followed behind them, phone out to text Scott that they were going to a different store.

 

Scott messaged back that the line for smoothies was long and he’d catch up with them once he was able. Stiles just told him to take his time since he didn’t think he’d be much longer anyway. Probably just a new hoodie and a couple more shirts to appease Lydia’s desire to redesign his wardrobe. “Texting your boyfriend, Stilinski?”

 

“Be careful what you say, Jackson, one might think you to be jealous,” He responded easily, hearing a snicker from Lydia as they stepped into another store that met her standards, and his price range. He hesitated at the entryway and fluttered his eyes as a strong scent rushed against him. “Danny?” He murmured, looking around and spotting the other teen standing near the counter.

 

Lydia came back to loop her arm through his and he jerked at the sudden touch but relaxed once he noticed what she was doing. She steadily guided him away from the cluster of people hanging out in the back corner and brought him to a wall of shelves with folded shirts tucked into its cube containers. “You doing alright?” She asked as she picked through a few shelves.

 

“Yeah, I just… Did you know Danny was working here?” He stretched to reach one of the higher shelves where a brick red shirt had caught his attention.

 

“Mhmm, it’s his Spring break gig. He mentioned they would have a sale today,” Well, at least that explained why Lydia thought it was safe for them to come here. Stiles’ wallet wouldn’t suffer too much and she’d get to play dress up with him a little more.

 

The thing is, it felt like he was on edge again, like someone was standing right in his space despite them being all the way across the store, “If I start going all ‘future sight’ do me a favor and like stomp on my foot or something,” or pull him out of the store, he didn’t care. The last thing he wanted to do was jump someone who had no idea what was going on because he thought they were a juicy, medium rare 32-ounce steak.

 

“We can go if you feel your control slipping,” She turned to hold up a shirt to his chest, smoothing it down his stomach like they were just talking about the weather or the color of this particular shirt instead of his newfound pass time of snacking on people. It was a deep blue button-down with the sleeves already rolled up and a straight cut hem. He looked down and noticed it transitioned into a light grey about halfway down, “This one would look good with the black jeans we picked out.”

 

“I like it, reminds me of my old flannels, but with the Lydia seal of approval,” The comment pulled a pleased smile on her face as she folded it back over her arm and turned to look for another shirt. He looked over his shoulder as a giggling group left the store, “And this is good practice. I need to be able to stand in a public place without wanting to jump someone’s bones.”

 

She snorted and he held the red sleeved grey baseball tee up to himself for her opinion. She tilted her head and tugged the hem a little, “Not bad, but you could buy one just like it ten bucks cheaper at the supermarket.” Stiles folded it and put it back.

 

“Here, Stilinski.”

 

Stiles turned and sputtered as a shirt was thrown in his face. He pulled it down and glared daggers at Jackson as he turned and went back the way he came. He only looked down when it seemed like Jackson wasn’t going to bombard him with more garments. It was a basic white button-down and he turned a questioning eyebrow at Lydia, “Everyone needs at least one white button-down shirt. It’s a principal of fashion.” She took it from him and added it to his other top across her forearm.

 

Stiles wanted to argue that he could get one cheaper at the supermarket like she had told him about his baseball tee but even he knew that supermarket dress shirts wouldn't fit comfortably. He noticed how the seams had curved on the one in her grip and hoped that he wouldn't have to try on five different sizes of it to find the one she thought fit him best. “So what, do I need slacks now too and those shiny pointy toe shoes?”

 

“I thought about it.”

 

He snapped his head back around, and asked with a disbelieving, incredulous tone, “Seriously?”

 

“You wouldn’t wear them even if I threatened your Jeep. There’s a reason why you have black jeans now, Stiles.” Her tone had that 'you should know this already' ring to it.

 

He frowned down at a lime green stack of shirts and pinched his brows together, “Thanks?”

 

They searched the shop wall a little longer and Stiles managed to talk Lydia into a pair of maroon colored jeans, but she negotiated two more shirts for the pants. He agreed, and she pushed a thin knit pullover onto him as well as another pocketed tee that gradated between cream and white with some unnecessary buttons around the collar for whatever reason. It felt nice so he didn’t complain.

 

“Alright, you want to see if you can find a decent jacket here?” Stiles looked around for the rack that had outerwear and swallowed thickly when he realized it was near the register, where Danny had taken up residence. Lydia followed his line of sight and frowned, “Or maybe a different store?”

 

“No, no, I need to at least try, right?” Stiles licked his lips again and took a few cautious steps forward, “Where’d Jackson run off to?”

 

“Bathroom, probably. He has the bladder of a goldfish,” Lydia lead him to the edge of the rack furthest away from Danny and pushed through a few jackets that he just shook his head at.

 

They circled around it carefully and as an excruciating minute passed he realized that Danny was coming over, probably to say hello. God, it was like he had drowned himself in cologne or Incubus nip or some other thing he couldn't piece together right now because _he could feel his saliva glands kicking into high gear_. “Hey Lyds, Stiles. You guys need something in particular?” That friendly smile was deceptive and Stiles had to force himself to turn back to the clothes in front of him.

 

“Hey, just trying to find something comfortable and simple enough to go with everything Lydia had me pick up today.” He thumbed over a store-branded hoodie and pursed his lips at it. He didn’t want to be a walking billboard for a store he had gone to maybe once in his entire lifetime. No thanks. The small distraction helped, but his calves stayed tensed- whether that was so he could turn and leap onto Danny or run out of the store, well he'd figure that out in about thirty seconds.

 

Danny slipped around him and ran his hand across the back of his shoulders until he was on his other side, “Well, try this one then. You can’t go wrong with a classic denim,” He pulled out a dark grey and red affair and spun it around for Stiles to see. Honestly, he kind of dug it. It was a denim jacket with a thick oversized red hood and red accents on button clasps and the zipper.

 

Stiles plucked it from him and held it up to test the sleeve length, “Dude, this is actually pretty awesome. Reminds me of the red jacket I lost last year.” He pulled the white braided cords around the hood and nodded again to himself as a smile toyed at the corners of his lips, “Lydia?”

 

He turned and pressed it to his chest, flipping it like a red cape and she evaluated it with an amused, appraising eye, “I guess. Do the pockets actually function as pockets?”

 

“What’s up with your obsession over pockets?”

 

“Eighty percent of female clothing has shallow or sewn together pockets. I’m doing you a favor.”

 

Stiles popped one of the buttons on the chest and made a show of wiggling his fingers deep inside, feeling the satin lining, “Yep, pockets are pockets.” He let her bury her hands into the two near the waist and check the inner lining until she was satisfied, “Stickler for details.”

 

She pursed her lips and flipped one of the sleeves inside out, “If I’m making you spend money on new clothes I want them to at least _last through high school_.”

 

“She has a point,” Danny crossed his arms and Stiles was sure he could feel his control slipping as the movement sent another waft of his scent into his face. “Why is she making you spend money on new clothes, anyway?”

 

Stiles looked up at Lydia’s face from where she was returning the sleeve back to its correct position and then flicked his attention briefly to Danny, “I kind of can’t wear any of my old stuff anymore. And she won’t let me go to a second-hand shop unless she’s there to monitor what I buy.”

 

“Well, you did like to buy baggy clothes back then. And, no offense, but this is a good look on you compared to what you wore last year.” Stiles frowned but straightened his shoulders like he appreciated Danny’s compliment for what it was. _A compliment_.

 

“Does that mean I’m attractive to gay guys now?” He teased, grinning when Danny groaned at him and slunk back behind the counter.

 

“Shut up, Stiles.” If people kept saying it he was sure he'd start to believe the full sentence was his name.

 

Man, it was hard resisting the pull. He swayed back toward the counter and Lydia raised her eyebrows sharply at him as she clutched to his wrists. He lowered the jacket and flicked his tongue out over his lips again, almost whining as the banshee held him in place long enough to get his head about him. He bit the inside of his lip and took another deep breath, trying not to focus on the scents swirling around the compartment store. Lydia’s eyes widened in shock and she hastily pulled the jacket onto her arm and took his wallet from him, “Go find Jackson.”

 

Stiles furrowed his brows and thought to open his mouth but then he realized. His control slipped _again_. His eyes probably flashed and Lydia had seen and oh no, now what? He bobbed his head, raised a hand and waved at Danny, and then dashed outside into the wide halls just as Scott seemed to find where they had gone off to. Stiles moved to one of the benches that ran down the center of the hall and sat robotically as his hands reached down to grip at the edge until his knuckles turned white.

 

A frown tugged at Scott's mouth, “Dude, you alright?” He sat down beside him and stretched his hands out to grab at his forearms and Stiles hummed in answer, though whether it was positive or not he didn’t know.

 

“Got a little… Overwhelmed.”

 

“Shit - Do you need to go?”

 

Stiles shook his head and tried to clear out his lungs, taking slow breaths through his mouth since they were still sitting directly in front of the store, Danny's scent enticing him to come back inside, “I came so close, Scott. I don’t know what it is but I feel this like… There was this _pull_ to grab ahold of him and wrap myself around Danny and - dude I almost tried it. I was going to try it. I was probably going to fucking kill him.” He pulled his shaking hands up to push through his hair and Scott moved his hand to the center of his back, just to keep the contact- and honestly? It helped.

 

“Come on, let’s find a water fountain or something. Splash your face, get a drink, it’ll help you clear your head.” Scott pulled him up and Stiles fumbled for a second but he followed him, keeping his eyes down in case he lost his grip again. Yeah, so that whole freaky wolf eye thing apparently wasn’t just for wolves. Though, his was different at least. Like a golden halo around his pupils that smoked out into his irises. It was cool when he wasn’t completely freaking out over the idea of _killing_ someone because he was hungry.

 

Stiles slipped into a nearby bathroom when it was made clear that malls apparently didn’t install fountains anymore. He checked down the short hall in front of the urinals and toilet stalls before he bent over the sink to cup water and drink it greedily. It was cold and tasted like chlorine but it was _something_ and the smell bleached Danny's scent out of his nose. He leaned back and closed his eyes with a long sigh before a hand tangled in the back of his shirt and pulled him against the wall of the nearest cubicle. His eyes snapped open, and there stood Jackson, eyes glinting blue before he dove into his personal space.

 

A muffled sound of shock was swallowed down as Jackson pressed against him and Stiles scrambled to find a way to get away from him. The wolf growled at him and shoved his shoulders back against the wall, “Lydia told me.” Stiles could hear the way Jackson spit the words, and he knew that this was probably one of the last things he wanted to do. He wasn't the only one.

 

But his brain was slow to pick up that response. His tongue chased the green zing that clung to his lips. What? He inhaled to speak, but Jackson was right up against him, and the smell of werewolf and whatever else that was supposed to be curled inside his lungs. _God, he was so hungry._

 

He surged forward without thinking and pressed his mouth against Jackson’s, biting with subtly pointed canines. His hands gripped onto Jackson’s ribs and he felt the response he needed. His tongue licked into the other’s mouth and he chased that wisp of lime green, danced his tongue around with Jackson’s and pulled on what he was after. His eyes crinkled and he inhaled between them as Jackson broke for just a second to breathe. A shimmering smoke passed between their lips and Stiles let out a pleased chittering sound deep in his chest.

 

His feet shifted and he twisted them so that he had Jackson shoved against the cool tiles beside the air dryer that kicked on when someone’s elbow smacked into the sensor. He dove after that taste again and hastily ran his hands under Jackson’s shirt, letting his fingers fan out against the overly-warm skin, crawling up his sides and around to his back. Jackson’s hand was already holding the back of his head, fingers pressed tight as he gave as good as he got. This wasn't a competition- but the fight played with some new dark creature in the back of his mind. His nails bit into tan skin and struck white lines over flesh as he pushed further into Jackson's space.

 

They stayed that way for a while, hands moving to new patches of skin, nails scraping, teeth occasionally clacking as Stiles got too into it. He could feel warmth curling up inside him, low and steady but swirling like there was a vortex mixing the faint traces of Scott and the new, different flavor of Jackson. His focus slowly came back and he eased up, fingers relaxing their near bruising grip, sure that he had left tiny crescent impressions against Jackson’s shoulder blades. A lethargic hum crept over him and he finally pulled away, only to turn and slump down the wall beside Jackson’s knees.

 

His breath was shaky and his eyes fluttered closed again as he tried to slow the blood rushing through his head. “Thanks,” He breathed, words just barely vocal. Jackson grunted back and slid down beside him, looking dazed and like he was far away in thought. “You ‘kay?” Stiles cracked his eyes open and looked at the other’s profile. His skin almost itched at the way the green swirled inside him, violent but spreading into his limbs and slowing to match the hum. It was almost euphoric.

 

“That was wild,” Stiles snorted as Jackson turned to look at him, brows pulled together, “Is that all you have to do then? Suck face and then you have control again?”

 

Stiles shrugged and thumped his head back against the wall again, “Seriously, I have no idea. I’m kind of just winging this whole thing and hoping I don’t put somebody in the hospital or worse. Werewolves are supposed to be safer to feed off of which is why you and Scott can still stand and do shit. I’d suggest eating and taking a long nap when you get home by the way. Deaton mentioned something about your body needing the energy to restore itself.”

 

“So you did this to Scott?” Jackson’s face twisted in confused disgust at the idea.

 

“Yeah, apparently? I don’t really… Remember it. I kind of blacked out- well I went to sleep off what I thought was a migraine and boom,” Stiles gestured to his whole self and rested his arms against his propped up knees. “Incubus. But you know, at least I don’t feed off of nightmares.”

 

“I don’t know, I’m going to have some nightmares about kissing you.”

 

Stiles moved his arm to shove Jackson but he was smiling, “You’re an asshole.”

 

 


	2. Pop Rocks & Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I'm a little impatient with myself, haha. I wanted to try and wait until Thursday to post this, but I'm terrible at self-restraint and well... Here it is?  
> I hope you enjoy the chapter! Thank you for the support you all have shown me so far!

So it worked like that for a while, Stiles generally took ‘essence’ - as he was starting to call it- from Scott whenever he got hungry, but the not so rare occasion came around when Jackson started hanging out with them, bringing Lydia into the fold. It was… Unusual but somehow it wasn’t awkward. Lydia would often mention that Stiles had some weird fascination with screwing up Jackson’s hair, but otherwise it didn’t seem like she was jealous or uncomfortable whenever she found them with Stiles basically down Jackson’s throat. The blonde never mentioned anything snide about it, and Stiles refused to publicly rank him against Scott despite the alpha wolf’s constant begging.

 

He tried just one time to taste Essence of Lydia. She fainted when he took a little too much, and then he never trusted himself to try again, afraid he would actually land her in the hospital. The banshee told him the option was there if push came to shove, and he thanked her but they both knew that he would avoid it as much as he possibly could. She tasted wonderful, but Stiles scared himself.

 

It was during one of those make-out sessions on the couch with Jackson that his doorbell rang. It rattled and croaked sickly as someone buzzed it three or four times, but Stiles was focused and Jackson was in no position to get up, so Scott slunk off to wave in whoever was there. Stiles just crept his hand under Jackson’s shirt and slid his nails over his skin, eliciting a subtle gasp and almost choking at the sudden influx of shimmering smoke that filled his mouth.

 

A wolf whistle sounded behind him, “Damn, Stiles. No shame, huh?” Stiles felt another one of those chittering rumbles vibrate in his chest and slowly eased off of the constant flow he was definitely gorging himself on. Once it was allowed to creep back down Jackson’s throat, Stiles pressed two short kisses against the wolf’s lips to signal he was done and sat up. He was straddling Jackson’s thighs as he stretched out along the length of the couch, and was kind enough to tug the other’s shirt back into place as he swept a look up and down the figure that stood in the entryway of his living room.

 

“Just enjoying dessert. Not that you’re one to talk about shame, Isaac,” He slid off of Jackson when he made a motion to get up and flopped back against the opposite arm. The blue-eyed beta brushed past his pack mate and Stiles listened as he opened the fridge door to rummage for leftovers and an ice cold bottle of water, “What brings the king of scarves here tonight, hmm?” Stiles licked his lips like he was gathering the last bit of raspberry sauce from a decadent treat and pushed his hair back from his face.

 

“Deaton sent me to drop this off,” Isaac waggled a leather-bound tome beside his head and stepped into the room to drop it into Stiles’ outstretched hand, “Told me that you needed to call him with an update at the end of the week so he can track your progress or something.” He dropped into the space Jackson’s head had been occupying earlier and kicked his socked feet up onto the coffee table.

 

Stiles flipped open the book and skimmed the first few pages, thumbed through a few more and read half of the next random page he landed on, “So Scott told you?”

 

Scott looked at him with a weak smile, knowing he had been caught, “It kind of slipped. I mentioned you were a little feed happy and I didn’t get much sleep last night.” He rubbed the back of his neck and fidgeted in the chair he had fallen into after letting Isaac into the house.

 

“He looked like he was going to pass out on his feet at work. He had to take a two-hour nap in the back on the bags of kibble while Deaton was out.” Isaac stretched forward and picked up an errant water bottle, uncapped it, sniffed and then took a long draft from it.

 

Stiles frowned at the news and took a better look at his best friend, eyes flickering like sunlight radiating from a black hole, “No more practice for you for the next four days then,” He stated, nodding his head like he had made the right call. Scott ducked his head and pouted but thankfully didn’t argue too much about it, “Kira should be back at the end of the week anyway. You’re going to have to explain what’s going on when you talk to her next. I’d rather not be skewered because I’m macking on her boyfriend.”

 

Scott choked and flushed brightly. Stiles grinned like he hadn’t said anything to make Scott act that way, and Isaac just raised his eyebrows at the both of them, “So if he’s out for four days, what are you going to do? Focus solely on Jackson?”

 

Stiles weighed the idea and shrugged, “I can skip a day or two right now. I’d rather not, but at the same time I don’t want the asshole to crash when he drives home.” He heard an indignant huff and a murmured insult from the kitchen, but just flipped through a few more pages in the tome. “I’m guessing Deaton is going to push that whole sex-specific part of my nature when I call him. Did he mention any of it to you when he gave you this?”

 

“Yeah, he said this whole ‘essence’ thing you’re doing will tie you over for a while but,” Isaac shrugged and crumpled up the now empty plastic bottle, “That’s about as much as he told me. I’m guessing he’s going to want you to test your control and restraint before school starts back.” Stiles glanced up for a moment and raised his fingers to rub over his lips and chin as he thought.

 

“Those three have been helping me with control.” He waved toward Scott and toward the entryway to indicate Lydia and Jackson as they were in the kitchen, “If I ‘eat’ before I go out to a crowded place I’m better at keeping a leash on my control. It doesn’t last very long though, maybe four or five hours? I can go longer when I’m at home but I figure that’s just because I’m not trying to restrain myself when I’m by myself or around people I won’t suck dry.”

 

“Dude, you sound like a vampire when you talk like that.”

 

“I pretty much am a vampire, without the aversion to sunlight,” Stiles waggled his eyebrows at Scott, “But I don’t glitter either. And I have this as my ‘daylight ring’, so I get to keep acting like a real boy,” He lifted his left arm and fingered the embossed and wrapped leather bracelet Deaton had made.

 

Isaac pulled his hand closer to get a better look and twisted it around his wrist but didn’t try to snatch it. He was thankful that his newest couch comrade had enough common decency not to try, unlike a certain blue-eyed beta who yanked it off as soon as Stiles mentioned the word ‘tail’. “Smells weird.”

 

Stiles looked at the bracelet and nodded with pursed lips, “Yep,” he popped the p on the end and took his hand back, “I didn’t ask and I don’t want to know what it’s made of or what Deaton did to it. I just know that it works and that it’s waterproof. Otherwise, showers after practice are going to be a hell of a lot more awkward once we head back to school.”

 

“Aren’t showers going to be awkward anyway? You’re going to have like, 20 naked guys around you.”

 

“Yeah, and you’re going to be tired from practice on top of it.” Scott looked thoughtful as he tried to piece together how to handle a hungry Stiles after practice like he was some golden retriever that needed food after a rough day of play.

 

A low groan crept out of his throat as he dropped his head back against the couch, “Shit. And Finstock definitely isn’t going to let me sneak off for a snack break or anything during games.” He rubbed his face and slumped further into his seat as he thought through a half dozen options before vetoing the majority of them. “Maybe I should quit this year?”

 

“You’re not quitting, you’re already on first line,” Jackson’s voice carried from the kitchen, “You quit and I stop letting you feed off of me. Figure something out.”

 

“Not allowed to blackmail me with feeding, Jackson!” Stiles called back, “If you genuinely don’t want me to feed off of you that’s different, but using it to get what you want is no Bueno. I won’t suck down essence without consent; we’ve already had this discussion.” He heard a grumble in response as Jackson opened his bottle and took a swig.

 

“He has a point though. Coach won’t let you off easy now that you’re first line.” Scott so kindly pointed out.

 

Isaac hummed as he rolled the crackling ball of plastic between his hands, “You could learn to take a little from multiple people during games and practice? Some from Scott before you go on the field, some from Jackson when Coach lets us refill the bottles halfway through practice and during halftime?”

 

Stiles studied the ceiling as he considered that, “They’re both on first line, so even if I take half as much as I usually do that’s still going to leave them weak and Jackson doesn’t like having distractions during games. Ten minutes won’t be long enough to get their senses back either so whoever gets stuck with the halftime slot is going to get slammed by the other team.”

 

“And we both have girlfriends, so if anyone catches us necking we’re going to have to come up with some kind of weird excuse like ‘oh I’m in an open relationship, Kira supports us’,” Scott’s face twisted as he thought about it, “Though technically she doesn’t know yet?”

 

“Yes, a weird answer like you and Jackson are in my harem. And by association so are Kira and Lydia,” Scott’s face crumpled even more at Stiles words.

 

He crossed his arms in front of him and gave Stiles the stink eye, “You’re not kissing my girlfriend.”

 

“Technically I will be when you kiss her after she comes back. You’ve got my germs now, and then she’ll have my germs and if you want to think of it that way then I already have her germs. So really, Kira kissed me first,” Stiles grinned at Scott and the alpha wolf groaned as he slumped further into the chair.

 

“Dude, that’s not cool, don’t do that to me!”

 

“Does that mean that Scott and Jackson have kissed then?” Isaac’s question caused a coughing fit in the kitchen and Stiles couldn’t contain his bark of laughter.

 

He swept a finger under his eyes and turned a brilliant grin on Isaac as Scott bolted to the bathroom squawking about how unsanitary that was. It didn’t matter that Jackson and Scott had shared more than one water bottle at practice or that Scott usually didn’t care, but apparently, the idea of just knowing that he was indirectly kissing Jackson made him want to chug a whole bottle of mouthwash. “You’re cruel, I like you. Think I’m going to keep you.”

 

“I think you’ll have to ask your dad before you bring your food home,” Isaac reached out for Stiles’ unguarded water bottle and the incubus allowed it, watching as he once again sniffed before drinking.

 

“He already lets me keep Jackson and Scott. Why, are you offering?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and kicked his feet up into the empty space between the two of them on the couch, knees bent so he didn’t dig his heels into Isaac’s thighs.

 

“You’re going to need someone to take up Scott’s spot while he’s on Incubus Recovery Leave, aren’t you? I’m not shy, and I’m a werewolf- two things Deaton mentioned would make me a good candidate.” Isaac capped the water and tossed it to Stiles who caught it easily and took his own drink.

 

Stiles eyed him thoughtfully as he twisted the cap back on, “That’s not creepy at all- Deaton recruiting werewolves for me to chow on,” And they knew that’s essentially what it had been. Apparently, the vet had noticed Scott’s declined energy, and well… Stiles couldn’t blame him too much for wanting to give Scott a break. And it was true that he could wait a few days between sessions, but that usually left him feeling strung out and he was pretty sure that day in the mall was too close for comfort. He almost took too much from Jackson just because he had been there and Stiles had been starving- in a metaphorical and literal sense.

 

“One of those pages mentioned you need a varied diet. Besides I’d be getting something out of it in return, just like Scott,” Isaac shrugged and turned his attention back to the TV where the volume was on its lowest setting just to fill the room with white noise.

 

“Yeah, I noticed that page, in particular, was bookmarked,” Stiles looked down at the book still resting against his legs, though it had slipped closed while he was turning on the couch. “Just so we’re clear there is not going to be any sex. You’re going to feel tired and hungry pretty much every time we do this. I’ll feed you in return and you can crash here when you need to- this is what I’ve offered to Jackson and Scott already.”

 

“Food and sleep to trade spit? Sounds pretty one-sided.”

 

Stiles pointedly raised his eyebrows, “Did you forget the part where I’m essentially eating what people consider to be your soul, or did you skip over the part where I can kill people if I get too invested in soul-sucking?”

 

Isaac raised and dropped one shoulder like it didn’t matter, “I think we all get to excuse the attempt to kill someone when we first turn into something new, don’t you?”

 

That…. Made sense in a weird, round-about way- sort of. He thought about the first full moon that every beta had to go through, how primal and instinctual they were. Isaac wasn’t bad at learning control from what he had been told. Erica and Boyd had been a lot harder to teach, and Scott- well Scott was a lovesick puppy who only calmed down when he had been around the person he loved. Thank god that changed now. “Yeah, I guess. As long as it isn’t intentional.”

 

“Would it be intentional with you?”

 

“If it was self-defense, hell yeah. If they’re coming at me to kill then I’m going to do what any animal would do and use whatever window I can to escape through, even if I have to make it myself.” And Stiles knew that his future would eventually be filled with those kinds of decisions now. Werewolves at least had hunters who thought they should live by a code when dealing with them since they were once human. Incubi on the other hand… Hunters just considered them to be demons and would hunt them until there wasn’t anything left to be hunted. There was a reason why he couldn’t reach out to a nest or anything to learn under someone with experience. The only nest Deaton could even think of was in Europe.

 

Isaac’s ribcage pressed against his shins and Stiles flicked his eyes up, aware that Isaac was leaning into his personal space to catch his attention, “You’re too smart to let someone just kill you anyway. You notice things, you protect your own. They’d be idiots to try it- even when you were human. Erica was lucky when she bashed your head in.”

 

Stiles chuckled a little and thought back to the time he busted a bat on Ethan and Aiden’s alpha form and how he had so hastily threatened them with a club of his own making. The memory of Erica holding up a car part and smashing it against his skull brought up a twinge of pain, but he silently thanked that their relationship had gotten better since then. “Yeah, well remind me of that later after the hunters figure out there’s an incubus in town, alright?”

 

He cleared his throat and moved his book onto the table, dropping the water bottle in the floor beside the couch in the process, “Now, come here, let’s see how compatible we are.” He stretched his hands forward and pushed one leg off of the couch so he could catch and drag Isaac closer. His fingers slipped against the soft buzz cut around the back of Isaac’s head and he bounced his eyebrows, “Show me what you’ve got.”

 

Isaac leaned into the touch, lashes drooping across his eyes as he braced his hands on either side of Stiles, “Are we allowed to touch you?” Stiles shrugged and watched as he adjusted so that he could set a hand on his shoulder, finding a better angle so he could scoot closer.

 

“You can stop if you feel uncomfortable. If it hurts then push me off. I already fed off of Jackson so I’ll have better control. If it doesn’t work out on my end I’ll tap your shoulder. Nothing below the belt. Good?”

 

Isaac barely nodded before he descended on him, mouth soft and pliant as he touched a chaste kiss to his lips, and then again with a little more pressure. Stiles closed his eyes and tugged softly until Isaac’s lips stayed against his own. He massaged them softly and tilted his head a little more before licking his bottom lip. The curly haired beta opened and Stiles took his time exploring, making sure to keep his grip on the back of Isaac’s head loose, going so far as to curve his hand further up and twist into the mess of curls on top.

 

Isaac let out a quiet breath and Stiles traced one of his canines with his tongue, then delved deeper, brushing his tongue against the other’s until Isaac was returning the motion in kind. The familiar crackle of essence tingled against his tongue and again he was surprised at how different Isaac was to the other two he had already fed from. Where Scott was warm and almost spicy, and Jackson had this zesty tang to him, Isaac was… almost cool like an early spring but it sparked and popped as he inhaled. It felt like he was indulging in pop rocks and mint ice cream.

 

His fingers tangled further as he breathed Isaac in, let it creep down to mix with the overwhelming concoction of Jackson and what was left of Scott from the day before. His left hand slid down to wrap around Isaac’s ribs and he felt the hand against his shoulder move up to cup the side of his neck as they worked their mouths together. His fingers pressed into Isaac’s shirt eliciting small sighs from his newest treat.

 

“I’m borrowing your spare room, Stiles,” His eyes cracked open so he could look over Isaac’s shoulder, staring at Jackson who hung half of his body past the entryway, leaning into the wall. That burning golden halo lingered in his eyes before he drug his mouth away from Isaac’s with a warm exhale across his cheek.

 

His lips tingled and he swore it felt like he had just brushed his teeth. “Yeah, sure. Lydia staying with you?” He pulled Isaac’s head down to his chest and pet the back of it with long fingers. Curls flattened and sprang back up as he teased the longer hair and smoothed it down over his buzzed locks. Isaac worked on catching his breath, warm puffs saturating Stiles’ shirt and fanning over his bicep.

 

“No, I have to pick up some things and run a few errands with my mom,” Lydia’s strawberry blonde curls bounced into view from behind Jackson before she pressed a kiss to his cheek and waved at the two bodies on the couch, “I’ll come back later to pick him up. Play nice.”

 

Stiles grinned and let his nails drag lazily over Isaac’s scalp, “Mhmmm… I won’t make any promises.” Isaac sank against him and pulled his feet up onto the couch. It was kind of nice, feeling the weight on him.

 

“Later Lydia!” Scott called from upstairs. He hadn’t come back down yet so Stiles figured he had gone into his room to surf on his computer or he really was using the whole bottle of mouthwash.

 

The door clicked behind her and Jackson disappeared back around the corner, opening the door to the spare room. Stiles waited to hear the creak of the frame as he settled down on it and made a mental reminder to buy some new pillows for the room after his next job. “You good?” He peered down to the curls under his chin and felt arms tighten around his waist. When did those get there?

 

“Yeah. What’s the verdict?”

 

“You pass. Bring a couple changes of clothes over next time you stop by and I’ll put them with Scott and Jackson’s in the spare room. Just in case you stay over on school nights or feel like you need a shower. You got a favorite food?” He pet through those curls and heard Isaac barely suppress a soft rolling rumble.

 

“Shrimp stir-fry, I guess,” He leaned into Stiles’ hand and sighed as it followed his hairline behind his ear.

 

“Cool.”


	3. Burnt Sugar & Spice Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some mentions of Rohypnol and its uses/effects throughout this chapter and it will be mentioned a little more throughout the story. It isn't put into practice, but the content is there and I wanted to give a heads up in case it makes anyone uncomfortable. Tell me if you want me to tag it in future chapters!
> 
> I'm going to try and update on Thursdays. I might miss a few weeks here and there as I put more and more effort into the story but we'll hope that I can keep the schedule!

 

“So what, you’re able to knock someone out?”

 

“I don’t know, Scott, I haven’t read that far yet,” Stiles groaned as he dropped his head onto the book pressed against his desk. He heard Scott move around on the bed, cellphone temporarily forgotten and frowned as his current musty pillow was slipped out from underneath his head. He pressed his temple to the cool wood that had been exposed and watched as Scott mouthed a few words.

 

“So you’re like a snake? No venom without fangs?” The wolf leaned his hips into the corner of Stiles’ desk and tilted his head as he tried to read the smudged ink near the bottom of the page, “An Incubus can… lure?- his prey and with one… Stiles, how are you even reading this? Who wrote this?”

 

Long fingers snagged the top of the book and pulled it back to the table so he could see, “I used to read my dad’s half-drunk scrawl, this gets easier the more you stare at it.” He pursed his lips and found the passage Scott was reading and scanned it quietly. “Essentially I bite someone with these ‘fangs’ covered in a neurotoxin or venom or whatever and it’s like Rohypnol. They get really happy, then really quiet, then compliant, and then they might get sick, and then they pass out. Great, so I produce a date rape drug in my mouth. Awesome. Never kissing anyone ever when the fangs are out.” He grumbled.

 

He sighed out a huge breath and leaned his forehead into his hand, his elbow on the desk beside the book, “It’s a hunter’s report. He tailed a few people, watched them in their ‘habitat’ like some weird crocodile hunter, caught a few incubi, and a succubus and then experimented on them. He even extracted venom to test on humans,” He flipped to the next page and a faded diagram was presented to them. An example of a skull with lines leading out to labels and various other things looked up at them with dark sockets and a vicious looking grin.

 

“So he shoved needles up here between these two teeth into-”

 

“Nope, no thanks, I don’t want to hear in detail about an insane hunter experimenting with supernatural venom, Stiles. I want to keep my appetite,” Scott’s face had turned a little green and well, Stiles couldn’t blame him. The image of a syringe going into his mouth had him feeling a little sick too.

 

“Yeah. I think I’m with you on that. Come on, let’s go check out lunch. It should be ready to come off the stove.” Stiles slid an attached frayed ribbon into place between the yellowed pages and flipped the book closed. Scott circled around him to the door and Stiles followed him down the stairs, inhaling the warm scent of homemade chicken soup as it wafted out into the hall. Sure, it wasn’t red meat like Scott preferred, but Stiles liked to consider himself a pretty good chef if he could convince a pack of ravenous wolves to eat his food.

 

“Should I go wake up Isaac?”

 

Stiles placed a hand on the doorway and swung around it into the kitchen, “If you want. I figured I could just save what was left and put it in the fridge when it cools down.” He reached for the ladle and lifted the lid off of the pot with his other hand, a plume of thick steam rising up and perfuming the air further. The soup inside simmered as small bits of vegetable swam around, rising to the surface and sinking on the rolling bubbles.

 

Scott practically drooled, and Stiles smirked as he dipped the ladle in and stirred, little bowtie noodles coming up to the surface, “No, you cannot drink the whole pot, Scott. Get the bowls down.” Quiet sounds of ceramic hitting ceramic and moving over wooden shelves sounded behind him as the other male did as he was told and soon three mix-matched bowls were sat down beside the stove for Stiles to dish out food into.

 

Scott’s head cocked to the side just slightly and Stiles raised an eyebrow at him, “He’s up.”

 

“Good,” Stiles poured soup carefully so he didn’t scald his hands, and passed each bowl to Scott to put on his small kitchen table. Isaac slunk into the room and tiredly pushed a box of case files toward a corner of the table and dropped himself into the wobbly chair closest to the back door, “Morning sunshine,” Stiles greeted.

 

Isaac hummed and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, “Smells good. Erica said she was coming over to get me.” He leaned over his bowl and inhaled the steam deeply with his eyes closed. Stiles was almost certain that he’d drop his face into it with how tired he looked, but the other teen just sank back into the creaking chair until Scott pushed a spoon into his hand, “Thanks.”

 

Stiles procured a variety of drinks from the fridge and sat an orange Fanta down in front of Scott, a bottle of water near Isaac’s bowl and poured himself a cold glass of tea, “I didn’t know Erica had transportation. When did her parents agree to that?” He put the tea jug back into the fridge and slipped into his own seat.

 

“They didn’t. Derek’s driving her. He wants us to do some training, work on group attack tactics or whatever,” Isaac slurped his soup and hummed again. His spoon fished out a bowtie and he blew on it to cool it down.

 

Scott broke the seal on his drink and clumsily lifted it to his mouth when it fizzed over the top of the can. Stiles smiled behind his glass and tried not to let tea go up his nose, “Wait, training? Did you tell him what you were doing this morning?” Stiles sat his glass down and Isaac continued to spoon food into his mouth like he hadn’t heard Stiles speak. “Isaac.”

 

Brown eyes glanced over at him as another spoon of soup disappeared behind his lips. Stiles groaned and dropped his shoulders, “Isaac, you’re going to get crushed out there. Didn’t we talk about recovery time the day before?”

 

“I slept, I’m eating. I already feel better, so I don’t see why I have to skip out on pack time.” Isaac raised his shoulders into his ears and dropped them again. “It’ll be fine.”

 

“That’s what Scott said when he went to work and he needed a nap halfway through his shift.”

 

“They don’t know what happened to you though, do they?”

 

Stiles sat there for a moment and realized… No, no they probably didn’t. He cursed under his breath and dropped his head back until the back of the chair bit uncomfortably into his neck. A knee bumped against his own and he pushed a loud sigh from his lips, “I’m still not letting you go to practice. You go to support them, nothing else,” He wagged his finger and hoped it had the same effect with his chin still pointed at the ceiling.

 

“So how are you going to break the news to them?” Scott asked around a mouthful.

 

“How about: Turns out no one on team human is an ordinary human, surprise?” Stiles fanned his hands out and kept them there until Isaac snorted. They dropped onto the table and he rolled his head forward again, “I don’t know, can you guys smell anything different about me? What about if I just walk around tail out and eyes glowing, think I’d survive?”

 

“Are you even technically a human anymore?” Isaac lifted the bowl and sipped broth as he eyed him. He lowered his bowl and slowly reached out for Stiles’ which was basically untouched.

 

Stiles flicked his eyes between Isaac’s eye and hand before nudging his bowl toward him, “Take it, there’s more on the stove, I’ll eat regular food later.” Isaac wrapped both hands around the sides with a wide smile and pulled it in front of himself, his smile only growing when Scott whined about not getting it despite his bowl still having food in it.

 

“And I have no idea if I still count as human. I live off of the essence I suck out of people, and Deaton mentioned having to supplement my diet with other activities. I have a tail? I think I’ll probably grow horns or wings or something too once I have enough magic in my system, which sounds excruciating by the way.” Stiles laced his fingers around his glass and rubbed his thumb through the condensation, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m going to take a guess and say I’m not on the human spectrum anymore.”

 

“Dude, you’re going to get wings? That’s going to be cool- will you be able to fly? What will they look like?” Scott grinned as he leaned onto his forearms.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes at him and pushed his shoulder, “Still researching all of that. Eat your soup, freeloader.”

 

Scott only grinned harder, “I heard you were going to cook. Who’s going to pass up on that?”

 

“Speaking of which, you going downtown when you’re done here?” Stiles pushed himself up onto his feet and went to the cabinet he kept stocked with Tupperware, “Think I can convince you to take lunch to my dad? He’s still adjusting to his son being a sex demon, and I don’t think it would be a good idea to go hang out at the station until I have better restraint.” He pulled down a bowl and the matching lid and turned back to the stove, filling it to the brim.

 

“Is he still working late?” Stiles could hear the frown in Scott’s voice over the soft clack of Isaac’s spoon scraping across the bottom of his dish. “And yeah, sure. I’ll make sure he doesn’t have any junk food hidden in the drawers.”

 

“Thanks…” Stiles clipped the lid in place and grabbed the bread to slap together a peanut butter sandwich to go with it. He flicked open the silverware drawer and inhaled slowly, “Yeah, he picked up a double, he’ll be gone until morning probably. We’re texting though. I think he’s coming around to the idea. I mean, he’s taking it about as well as he did when I had to tell him werewolves and witches were real. What’s another myth turned truth, you know?”

 

Stiles slid the sandwich into a Ziploc baggy and pushed everything into a plastic bag he saved from the grocery store, dropping a disposable plastic spoon into it for good measure. Scott stood and put his bowl into the sink before reaching out to take the bag from him, “Yeah. One day he’ll stop getting shocked every time we come across something new. I mean, Kira is a kitsune, he took that one pretty well. And the whole darach thing wasn’t too hard either. He’ll come around.”

 

He clapped him on the shoulder and Stiles lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile, “I know. I hope it’s sooner rather than later though. I know he’s at work sneaking fast food for dinner, he’s not going to hide from me forever. You coming back tonight?”

 

Scott bobbed his head, “Sure. Pizza?”

 

Stiles looked at Isaac and the beta shrugged, though it looked like he wanted to come back, “Pizza for dinner? Garlic knots?”

 

“Sounds good to me. We’ll see how Derek feels after practice since I’m crashing with him.”

 

“I’ll pick it up at the end of my shift then, my treat.” Scott’s hand squeezed and then the wolf was out of the kitchen, front door closing behind him.

 

~~~

 

They decided to mix the tactics together when Erica and Derek came to his door. Stiles was draped across the couch, his head on Isaac’s lap and his arms folded comfortably underneath his chest. He had changed out of the pajamas he sported all morning, though his new outfit was just as comfortable as the previous. A pair of cuffed faded black sweatpants with the elastic cuffs pulled up to his knees, an old shirt he borrowed from Jackson- who surprisingly had dumped a bag of worn shirts, shorts, and hoodies in his lap last night- and one of said hoodies which engulfed him.

 

It smelled like Jackson’s cologne but he didn’t mind too much. Isaac wore what he had on when he came over, a pair of baggy gym shorts and a faintly stained grey shirt. Their shoes were piled haphazardly by the front door. Four bright beacons of white cotton kicked around occasionally as they shifted positions- Isaac’s feet back on the coffee table, Stiles’ bent awkwardly over the arm of the couch that wasn’t quite big enough to fully stretch out on. “They’re here.”

 

Stiles grunted and felt his tail whip anxiously against his thighs and claves, “Cool.” He clutched at his bracelet where he had been running his fingers over it just under his clavicle, keeping his hands busy as they channel surfed. He was pretty sure that the beads on the strings were made of some kind of bone, but he didn’t want to think about who or what he was wearing to blend in.

 

A sharp knock came to the door, a simple little rat-a-tat-tat that he knew to be Erica. Derek would have used the side of his hand, thumping loudly to scare the shit out of Stiles even if he were upstairs. “S’open!” He called as Isaac dropped his hand onto the side of his head. He didn’t pet or move his hand, just rested it there in a show of support. Stiles pressed his cheek against his leg in gratitude.

 

“Ugh, Jackson’s been in here? His cologne is everywhere,” Stiles could imagine the way Erica’s face scrunched up and felt a smile pull at his lips. “Mmmm, is that chicken soup?”

 

“You want some? It’s probably still warm. Bowls are above the fruit bowl. Spoons beside the stove,” He flexed his toes to cup over the arm of the couch and tipped his head enough so that he could look at the doorway. Erica slipped into view, followed by the dark shadow that was Derek Hale, leather jackets out of place over varied other workout clothes. Erica in a fitted halter top that brought out her eyes, with a pair of what he assumed were yoga pants. Derek in drawstring sweats and a blue-grey shirt that fit just a little too well.

 

Stiles’ tail flicked at the sight and suddenly it was like he had two very attentive cats in his presence, eyes honed in on the black appendage like he just waved a tasty rabbit in front of them. It flicked again in the opposite direction and their heads snapped to follow it again, “What the fuck is that?” Erica looked like she was ready to crouch and shimmy like a predator cat ready to take out her prey.

 

Stiles cast a look over his shoulder even though it pulled at his neck uncomfortably, and slipped his hand out from under his chest to grab his own tail. It ran gooseflesh over his body as he slipped further down to the spade, “This? It’s a tail.” It writhed in protest at being caught and he released it again, watching it as it violently slapped against the back of the couch, whipped back over the coffee table and then promptly disappeared between his thigh and the back cushion.

 

“Stiles.” He pushed up onto his elbows and looked back at Derek who growled his name. “What’s going on?”

 

Isaac had stayed quiet for the most part, though Stiles could feel his hand clench against the folded hood between his shoulders. He glanced up at him to gauge his emotions and then slid golden-ringed eyes back over to Derek and Erica. The female wolf flashed her eyes at him, and he smiled, showing off dainty pointed, very human canines. “Surprise?”

 

So they stood there as Stiles explained, hands wandering across the couch and flopping on Isaac’s thigh as he spun his tale and flicked his tail. Derek leaned his shoulder into the archway and Erica’s eyes kept landing on his new limb whenever it flagged and swayed above him. He thought he might have to warn her against trying to attack it but her gaze stopped drifting by the time he finished, “And I’ve been catered to by werewolves since then. A steady supply of essence keeps my head on straight, but I have to find a worthy tonsil hockey adversary every few hours. We’re working on control still.”

 

“And the tail, eyes and everything else?” Erica raised her brows at him and he showed off the bracelet Deaton made, making a clear point to cinch it around his wrist which effectively disappeared his more prominent features.

 

“My eyes still peek out when I’m tempted, but this little thing here hides it for me most of the time. The book upstairs mentioned that I could eventually learn to do this on my own. The fangs are ‘retractable’ kind of like yours, but I’m still working on that.” He sat up now that he didn’t have to display himself and stretched fully, arms high above his head and legs fully extended so that his shoulders, head and the backs of his thighs were the only parts touching the couch.

 

“You smell like Jackson,” Stiles cracked his eyes open and examined Derek’s frown.

 

“Yeah? He donated training clothes to the Stilinski fund for the poor. I’ve also been soul-sucking him, so I probably smell a little like him, Isaac and Scott without the overwhelming mass of Jackson’s clothes.” Stiles pulled down the hem of the hoodie as he slumped back down and crossed his arms in front of himself, “I mean, I think anyway. Isaac?”

 

Isaac sniffed and shrugged a little bit, “I can’t tell. You’ve been laying on me for the last hour, Jackson is draped all over you and Scott slept on the couch this morning.”

 

“All good points.”

 

“So, Isaac has joined your little den and that’s why we don’t see him as often,” Erica moved further into the room and sat down on Isaac’s lap with one arm wrapped around the back of his neck. Stiles made room for her legs to press between the two of them and bobbed his head in affirmative.

 

“Yep- it’s called a nest by the way. Generally, it’s meant to include Incubi and Succubi and their thralled victims. They used to be huge in the seventeenth century, but as far as we know the only substantial one around anymore is in Europe. We’ve been hunted to near extinction, or we’ve gotten better at blending in with the crowd in the last century. The hunter’s diary I’m reading suggests more that they’ve taken out most of the population.” A leg pushed against his thigh and he reached down to pat at Erica’s clothed calf.

 

“You didn’t know about this before your birthday?” Derek’s eyebrows were pulled together and down over his eyes in a way that had Stiles wondering if it hurt to keep them like that.

 

Stiles pushed air through his pursed lips, “Nope. I don’t think I would have gone to a party if I had known I was going to turn into this.” Derek evaluated him for a moment, and Stiles felt like he should be irritated that Derek didn’t trust him. He understood though. Stiles became something that needed to feed off of other people to survive, and he was in Derek’s territory, feeding off of his betas. Even Stiles would pin a guarded look on another Incubus or Succubus if they swept into town. It was hard to trust something you didn’t know or even understand.

 

“So,” Stiles looked at Erica as she twisted her fingers in Isaac’s hair, “Have you done anything other than kissing? You need more than that, right?”

 

“Just kissing. I don’t want to try anything else until I figure out more about myself. Like, if I take someone’s essence before we head back to the bedroom will it be enough that I won’t kill them- or if I expend energy during the act will I have to take more? How long can I be with one person before I have to change? And I have to learn how to control my fangs too. The last thing I want is to dope someone up. I want them to be able to tell me to stop- I won’t take that away from them.” He wrapped one of the strings from the hood around his fingers and looked between the three people in his living room, “The only time I want to use venom is when I’m protecting myself.”

 

Isaac’s phone chimed and Stiles moved to stand up, “Boyd?” He pushed his hands into the pocket and circled around the table since Isaac’s legs were still in the walkway.

 

“Yeah, he’s at the preserve, wants to know what’s taking so long.”

 

Stiles stopped at Derek for a moment, both of them looking at one another, “I’m going with you guys. You can train, Isaac needs to sit out or he needs to take breaks when he gets winded. I’ll just…. I dunno, run circles around the clearing. I need to do my own research.” Derek was quiet and for a minute. Stiles thought he would say no, but eventually, he inclined his head, and Stiles slipped past to get the waters he had tossed into the fridge after lunch.

 

~~~

 

It was surprisingly easier to run. He did three laps one direction and then turned, doing three laps the other way, back and forth, over and over again. The sounds of snarling and bodies slamming into each other at the center made sure to keep his attention on the four attacking each other. Thankfully without claws and teeth. He called out for Isaac to take a breather somewhere around lap twenty and took a break himself to sit with him, sprawled out on the grass and dead leaves. His lungs burned and his face was cold, but he was fine so far. No urges to tackle someone to the ground. He took it as a good sign.

 

The sky was overcast, and the air was sweet on his tongue, singing of future rain and thunder. He focused on the breeze, how it slithered through the trees and kicked up a few dead leaves almost rhythmically like the world was breathing. His fingers twisted into the detritus under him and he almost felt like it was reaching back, cautious and warm and humming with life. A shadow loomed over him and he blinked up at the distant face of Jackson, looking down with one smarmy eyebrow hooked up in question, “Napping while werewolves fight not even fifteen feet away?”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes and pulled his hands back onto his stomach, “Says the wolf who was late to training.” He eyed him for a moment and then asked, “How are you doing? I didn’t take nearly as much as I usually do last night since I still had Scott in my system. Think it’ll work?”

 

Jackson shrugged and dropped his phone on Stiles’ chest, “I think you’ll need more than two people if we’re keeping you on the team. Learn anything new other than the whole venom thing you texted about?”

 

Stiles grabbed the phone and tucked it into his sweatpants pocket where two other devices were. Having volunteered to be there apparently turned him into a human pocketbook, but he didn’t mind too awful much. “About twenty laps around this clearing seems safe so far. That’s what, maybe a quarter of the game? I’m rounding down since this is just running and Lacrosse is more physical.”

 

“Who was breakfast?”

 

Stiles jerked his head toward Isaac who was leaning back on his hands beside him, watching his pack charge at their alpha, both of them easily being swatted away. “Did you have anything for lunch?” Jackson turned his attention to the fight as well, watching Derek dodge a leaping Erica as Boyd tried to distract him from her.

 

“Nah. Stayed home all morning, had a big breakfast. Made soup to compensate.” Stiles pushed himself up onto his ass and shook leaves out of his hood. “Scott is bringing pizza for dinner when he’s off of work, Isaac might be staying. If you’re planning on coming over you need to message Scott so he can pick up extra food.”

 

Jackson started stretching when Derek shot him a look and Stiles watched his shadow pull his arms in every direction and stretch out his legs as he spoke, “If I do I’ll just raid the fridge for leftovers. Lydia is spending the weekend at her dad’s place. Said to message her Sunday if you need groceries. She wants salmon and wild rice, she’s upset you didn’t make her a ‘recovery meal’ after you knocked her out.”

 

“Hey, she got some reheated lasagna,” Stiles knew that he was going to cave though so he huffed out a resigned, “I’ll message her.”

 

Jackson jogged off to join the fray and Stiles nudged Isaac’s arm with his elbow before motioning for him to follow him back to training. Isaac rolled onto his feet and lingered just long enough to say, “Erica likes pork roast.” Stiles shot him a confused look as the beta left him where they had been lounging.

 

The incubus sighed and pulled his phone out of the hoodie pocket, where his keys and wallet were all crowding together since his sweatpants were full. He unlocked the screen and pulled up Lydia’s chat window to leave her a message.

 

_Salmon and wild rice- lunch or dinner when you get back? –SS_

He hopped onto his feet and walked back to the tree line so he could run some more laps and felt his phone buzz with a response.

_Dinner, obviously. –LM_

_Monday night? –SS_

_Yes. Make a reminder to send me your list Sunday. I’ll come by after lunch and we’ll look through those books Deaton loaned you. –LM_

_Sure thing. Have fun at your dad’s –SS_

 

He pocketed his phone again and looped around the wolves. After a while he tentatively stretched his hand out to wrap around a sturdy looking, smooth-barked sapling and whipped himself around it, letting his momentum turn him. The rush painted a smile on his face and he raced around to do it again from the opposite direction, trying for two twirls. His hands felt like static waves were running through them but he barked out a laugh. Only he would feel a rush when he spun around a tree like he was in some kind of Broadway musical. He dusted his hands off and made another lap, eyes flicking to the wolves every few seconds.

 

He could start to see the wisps of energy around them now. His high from his moment of play started to fade as the image increased in clarity. Crackles of almost white green around Isaac, the citrusy green zip around Jackson, and now he could see the other three. Boyd with a deep electric purple haze, Erica’s strong pulsating magenta. His teeth clenched and his feet slowed until he came to a stop.

 

Derek’s strong, almost overwhelming blaze of red was alluring to look at. Where Scott’s red was more orange toned, Derek’s was dark and deep. It felt like it was stretching out to him, like fingers beckoning him to come closer, enticing him with spice and flavor he hadn’t tried yet. He took an aborted step forward, eyes lighting up as he examined the buffet in front of him. So many choices to be had.

 

He jerked himself out of the trance quickly when he realized what he was doing. His body had reeled back so quickly that he stumbled back against an old box elder maple tree, hands slapping back to grip the sides of the trunk and hold himself there. Boyd noticed him, and one by one everyone’s attention turned to him where he stood plastered to the tree, heartbeat thrumming so quickly he was sure someone could time a piece of swing music to it perfectly. He swallowed and tried to take a long, slow breath that shuddered past his lips.

 

Isaac crept up to him like he was a cornered animal, and maybe he was, but he had his senses about himself, “Stay back,” He breathed, and the beta obeyed. He raised his hands in peace and Stiles twitched his fingertips against cracked bark, “Just- just give me a minute.”

 

They stopped in a near perfect line, curved around him only a few yards away and Stiles focused on Isaac, reminding himself of how weak his aura looked, how he couldn’t siphon from him again today. He closed his eyes and took in another breath, then looked at Jackson. Jackson who’s aura wavered from the fatigue from last night. It wasn’t safe to take from him either, he might actually hurt him still. His heartbeat eased as he analyzed them all, keeping his eyes firmly off of Derek out of fear that seeing that enticing beckoning would cause him to spring forward.

 

“Stiles,” His eyes snapped back to Isaac and the gold around his pupils intensified, almost as if he were warning him. Isaac made his posture speak of relaxation, of comfort, and he felt some of the tension slowly drain from his shoulders, “Tell me what you need. Do you want Scott?” Stiles pursed his lips and felt an irritated, high pitched hiss pinch through his vocal chords. No, he didn’t want _Scott_ , there was food right here!

 

Isaac’s hands rose a little higher and Stiles managed to strangle the noise he was making. “Okay, not Scott.”

 

Stiles’ eyes flickered back over to Boyd and Erica, his teeth itching at the prospect. What would they taste like, he wondered. His eyelids slowly fell over his eyes and he appraised them both with a long leer. A sudden movement from Jackson stole his attention and again he hissed until he stepped back again. Their eyes stayed locked and Jackson frowned, “He’s not going to take either of us. He knows we haven’t recovered yet.”

 

“And he probably can’t wait for Scott to get here,” Isaac supplied. Not that any of them could call the other alpha, Stiles had all of their phones in his pockets. The lanky beta eyed his pockets and Stiles was thankful that he could piece together information on his own because he certainly didn’t trust his own vocal chords right now, “He has our phones.”

 

Stiles pressed his head back against the tree and took in another slow breath before he started to count down from ten… nine… eight, exhale… seven… six, inhale… five… four… th- His hands surged out as soon as heat brushed over his skin and snagged into the sweaty fabric of a t-shirt, clenched so hard onto it that his knuckles turned white. A hot puff of air breezed past his face and he groaned, hands twisting further into the thin cotton as he fought with whether or not he should pull the radiating heat closer or shove it far, far away.

 

Fingers slid against his sweat-slicked skin and purely out of instinct he leaned into it, mouth popping back open just the slightest bit. The touch left his skin buzzing around his jaw, “D-” Lips slotted against his. Soft but with insistence and Stiles sagged into it, his mouth opening to clamp around a plush lip and letting his teeth graze over it. That strange sounding purr clawed through his chest and he tugged until his body was knee to ribcage against the other, fingers scrambling up to brace over collarbones and thick shoulder muscle.

 

A tongue traced his upper lip and Stiles released his hold on the soft skin between his teeth, opening further to meet that tongue with his own. An array of spices filled his senses, warm and deep and sweet. He sighed into it and tilted his head further, leaning into the hand that cradled his skull. This one was an expert at kissing, he could tell. Their mouths moved in tandem with one another, pushing and pulling and teasing just so.

 

A glimmer of heat tinged the tip of his tongue and he chased it, felt it wrap around his teeth and burn down his throat deliciously. He could feel someone rifling through his pockets until they were lightened.  Outside of the soft breaths fanning over his face he could hear something being caught or dropped or- Oh, that was powerful. He breathed in again and nearly moaned as the bittersweet bite of burnt sugar came to the forefront.

 

Pressure built against his back and he realized he was being pushed back against the tree, being pinned and held close. It felt like his ribcage was being crushed but he only slid his hands further around those shoulders until his arms crossed behind a strong neck, a hand carding through short, wet hair. He swore he was in heaven. He curved his tongue against the one invading his mouth and turned his head the other direction, hearing a low growl accompany the near constant chitter he was emitting.

 

The hand in his hair left, dropping down to scramble at his waist like his trapped prey was falling and his sides were the only thing holding him up. He heard the distinct scrape of pointed fingers snagged into the thick side of his hoodie and felt heat pooling into his skin through the layers. His teeth nipped the tip of a tongue and that body pressed into him just a little further, encouraging him to do more. Everything ached sweetly and he bowed into the touch of rough fingertips trailing after sharp points as they slipped under his hoodie and shirt, creeping over his hips, twisting to press into the soft skin above hip bones and into tight muscles around his back. Tingles ran up and down his spine and he knotted his fingers further into the slick strands between his knuckles, greedily drinking the denser essence the action brought forth.

 

He took, and took, and took until it felt like his whole body was on fire. His toes curled in his shoes and he pushed into the kiss just a little more before slowly drawing back, wishing he could stay there for years. They shared a chain of smaller kisses from open mouth to the softest brush of lips and Stiles smiled drunkenly as his body turned into jello, really only staying upright because of the grip that bruised against his hips and the long press of bundled muscles against his front.

 

His head fell forward to rest on a shoulder, his purr easing to an indistinguishable chirp until it finally died off to the soft sounds of his breath. His fingers loosened their grip and his muscles fluttered around his ribs as he inhaled that addicting aroma, pressed right into his face. The world melted around him until darkness crept into the brilliant reds behind his eyelids, drawing him into a heavy sleep without his permission.


	4. Dark Chocolate Cherry Cheesecake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to update chapters on Thursdays but today is an exception since tomorrow is kind of my birthday. I hope you guys enjoy the chapter and I'll see you all in about 6 days! Next chapter will probably go up on Monday or Tuesday since I'll be without net next week!  
> Thursdays seem to be a bad schedule right now, haha. We'll figure it out in the long run though. (:
> 
> Read on if you so please!

Awareness seeped into him slowly. First the low hum of what he thought was a fridge or maybe a fan, followed by the slow, shallow breaths sandwiching him. He keyed into the soft snore that tickled his ankle, and then the hand lying against his thigh, what he thought was either a head or a knee against his shoulder blade, and finally the warmth that cradled his forehead and touched his nose. He hummed and wiggled closer to that warmth, brushing his nose over the soft, salt-scented skin there. His tail squirmed around someone’s calf before a hand slapped at it just hard enough to make him hiss.

 

A series of half-asleep growls rumbled around him in response and he realized there were more bodies around him than the three he was used to. He picked his head up and fanned his hands over the back he was plastered against as his eyes blinked away the blur of sleep. He tried to understand his surroundings while his vision cleared and his brain woke up further. They were on the ground, a mess of blankets and pillows thrown everywhere, TV static lighting the room enough for him to pick out a few familiar lumps. Jackson was somewhere near his back and Scott was fully stretched out above him, his nose whistling to the ceiling.

 

He licked his dry lips and turned his attention down and forward, finding Isaac’s hand on his leg. He assumed then that the pressure between his shoulders was his head. There were three more bodies to account for, and he realized that they were the rest of the Hale pack. Erica had a sleepy grip over his tail, just holding it without any pressure and he realized she was the one who slapped him. Clearly, the tip of his tail had smacked her in the face. He figured she had a right to trap the limb if she wanted to sleep; that didn’t mean it felt good.

 

Boyd was the one curled around their feet, face dangerously close to all of the limbs that could easily break his nose- which was against his bare ankle. He squirmed as another deep snore tickled the sensitive skin there and slowly pulled his feet away, only to stop when his knees hit the body in front of him. He turned back to look and found Derek there, an arm wrapped over the pillow under his head. Another pillow was shoved into his stomach where he assumed one of the betas had been previously, and a cover tangled over his legs to trap the alpha there. Not that he looked uncomfortable, in fact, Derek looked almost serene and at peace there. It didn’t escape Stiles’ notice that the alpha wolves were closest to the heavy metal door, guarding everyone else while they slept.

 

Questions started to fire off in his head, slowly and then all at once. Thoughts like: Why were they in the loft? Why was he surrounded by wolves, bracketed at every angle so that they each touched him in some way? What time was it? He looked down and stared at the grey henley and loose pajama pants he was wearing- when did he change clothes? His fingers twitched toward the loose strings of his bracelet and he felt his throat tighten up as he realized it was gone. Had he…?

 

Slowly he extracted himself from the pile of bodies, twisted and compressed himself so he could roll onto the balls of his feet. It took a little more finagling to get Erica to release his tail, but he held firm to the end so he didn’t wake anyone up as he stepped over Derek’s legs, then over Boyd’s waist. His shins scraped against the front of the recently acquired second couch as he crab stepped his way past the last limbs in his way, eyes scanning tabletops and cushions for his missing bracelet.

 

He found it on the dull surface of the kitchen table like someone had shucked it off of his wrist and dropped it there with his wallet and his phone in passing. His keys were nowhere to be seen but he wasn’t too worried about that in particular- what was he going to do, run away to an empty house? He snared the leather band and pulled it back on with a sense of calm coming back over him. Two soft taps on the screen woke his phone and he read 3:53 on the interface as he slid a finger over the lock pattern.

 

There were a few missed phone calls; one from Deaton’s office, two from Scott and no voicemails. He flipped through to his texts and read the last string of messages he had between him and Lydia. He remembered sending those at least. Then there were four messages from his dad. One thanking him for the soup, one grouching about Scott taking the donuts and the bag of Doritos from his office- he smiled at that and reminded himself to do something for his best friend- and then two more mentioning that he would be home around 6, not to wait up for him.

 

He ignored the pang in his chest and put his phone back on the table. ‘ _Yeah, don’t wait up_.’

 

The sink bubbled in protest when he turned one of the handles but clean clear water came from the faucet, so he bent down, turned his head and drank. It trickled over his cheek and dribbled off of his earlobe, the cold temperature sent chills through his body. Once he had enough he stood back up and wiped his face with the sleeve of his borrowed shirt.

 

Stiles’ attempt to piece together the rest of yesterday came to a halt when he turned around and was met with a half-asleep Erica stumbling around the back of the couch. Her hair was a complete and total mess even as she tried to tame it into a bun on the crown of her head with a halfhearted attempt to get it out of her face, “Come back to bed, it’s not even light out,” She whined.

 

His eyes softened and he leaned back against the edge of the sink as he quietly said, “Not tired.” His arms crossed in front of him and Erica sagged against his shoulder once she reached him, her body pressed into his arm and hip with a groaned response. She tried to push him back toward the shuffling mound in the living room and he prided himself in the fact that he didn’t budge… much.

 

“Beeeddddd.” She shook both of them weakly.

 

“Shut _up_ , Erica,” Jackson snipped from his spot on the ground. Stiles watched as a blanket was jerked up to cover Jackson’s head, a hint of amusement lighting his eyes.

 

Stiles quirked a smile as his gaze turned back to Erica and he pushed her back, much more gently, “Go on. You might get some sleep now that my tail is safely tucked into its own dimension or whatever.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he felt a hand sweep down the curve of his back and pat around like she was searching for it. He nudged her with his elbow when she pinched his ass, “Hey, don’t damage the goods. I gotta have something to attract my prey.”

 

She pressed a smirk against his shoulder and looped her arms around him, lacing her fingers against his opposite hip, “I like your tail, you don’t have to hide it. You’ve gotten taller too. That a perk? Maybe I could get you to turn me into a Succubus; I wouldn’t mind a few extra inches and some additional sex appeal.” They both knew that he couldn’t turn her, but it was nice having someone joke around with him.

 

He acted like he was running his eyes over her, considering the suggestion, “Hmmm, I don’t know… You’re already competition enough, being a werewolf. If you became a Succubus I might as well pack it up and move out of California. You’d have men weeping at your doorstep.” His smile softened a little, ”Nah, if I were you I’d be happy having Boyd. He likes to cuddle, and he’s a big beefy teddy bear by nature. You got lucky with him, so maybe don’t consider making your own harem unless he’s cool with it.”

 

“He is pretty amazing, isn’t he?” She turned her head and sat her cheek against his shoulder, her unruly hair hitting him in the face and making him sputter as she sent what he figured was an adoring gaze to her lover.

 

He swore she rubbed her hair against his face again just to be spiteful, not that she was scent marking him with her cheek. He sputtered again and then huffed as his hands tried to get the nest of locks away from his mouth, getting blonde strands stuck against his lips, “Alright, you, chair, now.” He pointed at the closest kitchen chair and pushed her toward it, “If I’m going back into that mass of limbs and no-personal-space, I’m at least not going to suffocate on bed head.”

 

He pushed her shoulders until she sat down and then patiently fished out her hair tie from the chaos mounted on her head. With it held between his lips he finger-combed through the blonde mess until it was mostly tangle free, pulling long purr-like rumbles out of her as she melted into the chair under the ministrations, “Nevermind, you can just stay here. I’ll sleep in the chair. You keep doing what you’re doing.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes skyward and sectioned out a few pieces to pull together a french braid. Left, right, more hair, left, right, over and over from the hairline around her forehead, down the back and to the nape of her neck. A quick standard braid whipped together the rest of the length to the tips of her hair, “I swear, you people are more like cats than wolves.” He sighed as he took the elastic back in hand and secured the braid in place, “There, now go to bed.”

 

“Mmmmm…” Stiles circled around the chair and pulled her arms to try and get the stubborn wolf back to the other stubborn wolves sleeping on the living room floor, “Carry me?” She batted her lashes at him and didn’t look the least bit sorry for asking. In fact, she looked even sleepier than when she chased him into the kitchen. Her body was lax and if he were honest it was a little contagious.

 

He groaned and hung his head back, “Erica, seriously?”

 

“Come on, Batman. You played with my hair, what makes you think you can stop with the princess treatment now?” She grinned at him and swung their arms between them, “Carry me.”

 

He dropped her wrists and ran both hands down his face in exasperation, “Remind me never to do it again.” But he had already stepped up to slide one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees, “If I drop you, just remember you asked for this.”

 

She dropped her arms around his shoulders and tapped her fingers against the back of his neck, “Hey, you held Derek for like six hours. I’ insulted if you’re saying I weigh more than him.”

 

He gripped her leg and side as he hoisted her easily with another roll of his eyes, “We were in a pool, and it wasn’t six hours.” But Erica was easy to hold, almost weightless even. He walked them across the kitchen and indulged her with a couple of traveling spins as he carried her in the princess hold. She gifted him with a gleeful giggle and closed mouth smile. The hard part came when he had to walk across the booby-trapped area rug, stepping around like he was playing some awkward half-formed game of Indiana Jones themed twister.

 

Isaac sleepily made room for them to lie down in Stiles’ old spot, and Stiles somehow managed to sit down without crushing someone or busting his ass. “I don’t suppose you’d let me sit on the couch while you sl- oof!” Erica’s hands pulled him down beside her and then pushed him around until his back was firmly against Derek’s. He could feel him breathing, and for a moment he thought he might get a firsthand experience of a werewolf growl tattooing into his ribcage but Derek just tiredly nudged back and resettled.

 

Stiles released his held breath and shot Erica a glare. He tried only once to get back up, feeling her grip tighten on his upper arm and drag him back down, “Fine, but if you turn into breakfast-”

 

“Go to sleep, Stiles.”

 

~~~

 

Erica didn’t turn into breakfast. Instead, Stiles ate toast with the pack, watched them fight over jam and fried eggs and what fruit had been around the loft. He went with Isaac to the store to buy fresh groceries for Derek’s loft with the older wolf’s card and didn’t feel the itch to flirt with and tease the poor souls who dared to occupy the same aisles. They picked up enough food to fill the cabinets, countertops and even the fridge, and Stiles bought himself a couple bottles of lemonade out of his own wallet- one of which Isaac helped him drink on the ride back, his jeep piled full with plastic bags.

 

They made a pit stop at his house for additional supplies, like a proper pot and serving tray fit to feed the bottomless pits that lined every stomach in the loft. They also grabbed a duffle of Stiles’ things- his books on his species, his laptop and phone charger, as well as a couple of changes of clothes. He figured at the very least he could shove them somewhere in the loft in the event that they had to play doctor. Scott and Isaac had been kind enough to finally fill him in on what went down during training yesterday, and now Stiles felt incredibly uncomfortable and thoroughly in the dark as to why the hell that happened.

 

Everyone pitched in to carry up the bags when they made it back to Derek’s little hideout, even Jackson. Stiles directed where each type of food needed to be stored, and picked through various passing bags to pull out what he had decided to make for lunch. And yes, he was making lunch- he sucked the essence out of someone, he figured that _someone_ deserved a recovery meal even if he didn’t voice what he wanted. Derek was stubborn like that, but Stiles decided he could futz around in the kitchen until he eventually figured out what Derek _did_ like.

 

Two boxes of garden rotini, a slew of vegetables and herbs, a container of mini mozzarella cheese medallions and pepperoni were set out on the steel kitchen table. A lot of pepperonis. Thankfully his two biggest food thieves steered clear of the kitchen area and Stiles was allowed to cook in peace. He did warn away a stray beta with a brandished knife, and they scurried back to the couch from whence they came.

 

Once he got the pot set on the stove with water heating to a boil he settled into a comfortable rhythm. Rinsed vegetables fell to his knife, diced, halved, quartered, and dissected- whatever he needed to do to cut everything into relatively the same size pieces. Broccoli was broken apart into small pieces and dropped into a large bowl, cherry tomatoes halved and scraped in on top of the mini green trees, red onions peeled, sliced and diced with a practiced ease. Colorful bell peppers were seeded and sliced into thin long strips, and the jar of black olives was closed after three voices piped up that they didn’t like them. Zucchini joined the fray in half-moons, and the oversized bowl was nearly half full just from the vegetables.

 

Stiles turned between vegetables to pour in the boxes of pasta and stir them, whipping up a small whirlpool with a wooden spoon. He listened to the betas bicker between one another and would look up to find Derek reading the two books Stiles had brought back with him. Scott had disappeared but promised he would be back for lunch- like Stiles could keep him away. The incubus was pleased to see Jackson at least spending time with the others… Even if he was constantly on his phone, it was progress.

 

Stiles stole bits of cheese while he whipped together a vinaigrette and chopped herbs to top off his salad. Boyd became his muscle when it was time to drain the pasta and Stiles snuck him the first real bite as payment, grinning when the other lit up at the taste. They shared a moment of comradery and then Boyd went back to the living room where he shared a brief kiss with Erica. The she-wolf then shot him a look of betrayal and Stiles only smiled cheekily at them, “You’re brave to antagonize her.”

 

Stiles’ head turned to find Derek walking up to the kitchen table where Stiles had commandeered the space as a faux-kitchen-island. He responded by raising another spoon of salad for Derek to try, “She didn’t want to strain the pasta. Helpers get to taste the food.”

 

Derek eyed the spoon and Stiles waved it in front of him, “Victims of sudden soul-sucking instances also get to taste food. If it were poisoned Boyd would be on the floor already.”

 

He started to pull the spoon back when a hand wrapped around his forearm, warm fingers holding him still as Derek enveloped the utensil with his mouth. Stiles definitely didn’t watch the spoon come back from his lips, and he certainly didn’t want to see if Derek’s mouth would taste like vegetable heavy Caprese salad. Whiskey brown eyes drifted up to a kaleidoscope of color as Derek swallowed, “Its good.” There was an expression on his face that Stiles couldn’t quite decipher, but it was gone almost as quickly as the heat around his arm.

 

Stiles cleared his throat and held the spoon up for Derek to take, “Bowls?” He asked as he turned to the salad only to spy four betas slowly creeping up to the table, “Or maybe just two bowls and like seven spoons?” Erica’s tongue came out to lick her lips and Stiles wagged a finger at her, “Not until I get some out for Scott and my dad.”

 

An annoyed growl was his answer but she obeyed and only hovered long enough- spoon poised to strike- for Stiles to dish out the two mentioned bowls before they all tucked in. Their bodies leaned against the edges of the table, with their heads intimately close as they stole food from one another, laughed as a game of spoon-themed Hungry Hungry Hippos broke out, and ultimately enjoyed one of their first group meals in months.

 

When Scott came back to see them circled around a near-empty serving bowl with their spoons pressed to their tongues, his face fell in disappointment, “You guys are savage.” He drew closer and tucked his phone back into his pocket, contemplating claiming the three or four bites still in the dish. Stiles just smiled and produced his serving from where he had hidden it in the sink.

 

It looked like someone had breathed new life into the true alpha as he surged around the table to take it and smack an enthusiastic kiss to his cheek, “You’re _amazing_. I knew there was a reason why we became friends.”

 

Stiles rubbed his spit off with the back of his hand and watched as he devoured his food, “And you’re an animal. I thought I taught you better,” He made a face as Scott shoveled two or three more spoons mid-bite into his mouth, “Ugh. I swear you can unhinge your jaw like a snake.”

 

He slipped past Scott and picked up his half-empty bottle of lemonade so he could go sprawl out on the blue suede couch. One foot hooked over the back and the other pressed to the floor as he rested his head on one of the shallow arms. The sound of dishes being placed in the sink and the squeak of a knob on the sink told him someone elected to do the dishes- probably Isaac. Jackson didn’t do dishes, and Erica probably didn’t have much experience until recently. Boyd technically helped with dinner and well Stiles couldn’t picture Derek offering to do dishes while Scott stood there inhaling his lunch.

 

So he retrieved his phone from his pocket and sent a message to his dad.

 

_Sending Scott with lunch again. Caprese salad, Stilinski style. –SS_

 

_You weren’t home this morning. What’s going on? –NS_

 

Stiles raised his eyebrows at the near instant response and thought about how he should answer. Tell his dad the truth? Tell him a general story? He read the message again and some bitter part of him was typing his false truth before he could think up another reason to make his dad hate him.

 

_Fell asleep at Derek’s loft with the others. Doing research. Still there, not sure when I’ll be back home. Stopped to pick up a change of clothes in case I stay the night again. Don’t wait up. –SS_

 

He locked the screen and dropped the device on the table beside his drink with a frown still drawn tight on his face. Sure, he understood why his dad was hesitant to look him in the eye- Stiles becoming a supernatural creature himself meant that his wife had been one too and Claudia never told anyone about it. In his dad’s eyes, he probably thought she had cheated on him multiple times, but something in his gut told him that even if she had fed off of other people while married to his dad, she truly cared about him. He was also upset that Stiles was now on the radar- upset that Stiles had to survive off of people and that he might have to resort to unsavory actions to do it. He got it… That didn’t mean he could deal with his dad avoiding him and then acting like he suddenly _cared_ just because Stiles hadn’t been asleep in his bed when he snuck back into the house.

 

“You’re making Isaac anxious,” He bounced as Erica dropped onto the couch and then promptly stretched out on top of him between his legs. She laced her fingers and planted her chin on them just below his ribcage, her knees pressed into the other arm of the couch, feet kicking slowly in the air. “You alright, Batman?”

 

Stiles drug the bend of his elbow over his eyes and hummed instead of giving that a real answer. She jabbed him with a finger and he frowned, but she kept poking, “Getting hungry? Need an after lunch kiss?” He pulled his arm off of his face so he could trap the pinky digging into his ribs and give her a dull look. She puckered up and made wet kissy sounds at him, clearly amused and proud when she pulled a faint smile out of him.

 

“Not hungry. My dad is avoiding the whole Incubus thing. I’m dealing with it.”

 

“Mmm…” She pursed her lips at him and narrowed her eyes, “You want to crash at my place tonight? Isaac mentioned something about you staying home alone lately. My parents might be glad to see someone other than Boyd and Derek.”

 

“Thanks,” He murmured, squeezing her finger between his own, “But I don’t want to do anything that could seriously hurt your parents. Yesterday kind of proved to me that pushing myself too hard can result in some unsatisfactory outcomes. My donors couldn’t do anything to calm me down and someone else was forced to step in before I could make any kind of agreement.”

 

She curled her finger around one of his and they sat like that for a while, letting the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing wash over them as Jackson moved to join them in the room. He fell into the open space between the makeshift coffee table and the couch and leaned back against it, phone in hand. “You’re right and it fucking sucks, but I think you should drop Lacrosse this year. We thought we could control it like the shift, but if it only takes a burst of adrenaline to kick you into high gear we should avoid it where we can.”

 

Stiles looked at the corner of Jackson’s head and moved his other hand out to mess up his unkempt hair even more, just to get a little rise out of him before he started to comb through it like he had for Erica last night, dragging his nails slowly and drawing the fine hairs back from his face, “Yeah. Guess we can scratch cross country off that list too. Going to miss those morning runs.”

 

“Yeah right,” Erica scoffed.

 

“Hey, they helped me focus in the morning while my Adderall was still trying to kick in. I had to burn off some energy somewhere. Now I’m going to be even _more_ annoying before lunch.”

 

“Stilinski was one of the fastest runners on the cross country team. Coach was impressed with his speed but when it came to playing Lacrosse he was miserable.” Jackson looked over his shoulder at Erica and let his head fall back onto the couch when Stiles pulled his hair sharply for the mild, but honest insult. He never said so but Stiles knew he appreciated physical touch, even if it came from mouthy, snarky Stilinski who started this whole rivalry thing between them in third grade. Really he couldn’t even remember what he did anymore, just that Jackson had evolved into a Grade-A douche with his newfound popularity in high school and that the bullying started when he thought he had won.

 

“Could have fooled me, he always looks like he ran six miles after five minutes of running for his life.”

 

Stiles tapped a finger against her forehead, “Key words being ‘running for my life’. Your lungs do wild things when your body thinks you’re about to die.”

 

“Maybe you should join the swim team again.” Scott hung his head over the back of the couch and Stiles was way too glad to see that there wasn’t food on his face.

 

He shrugged a little, “Jackson kind of trapped me in a pool for a few hours- no thanks to you. I don’t want to revisit that again. Besides, I think I’m going to have my hands full with my situation. It’s probably a good thing that I’m not going to be involved in sports this year.”

 

“I apologized for the pool,” Scott grumbled, but Stiles just raised his hand from Erica to pat him on the side of the face.

 

“Not blaming you anymore, buddy. You might want to apologize to Derek though. I mean I did let him go and almost let him drown so I could call you, but I already paid my penance.” Scott’s face soured for a moment and Stiles slapped his face a little firmer, “Play delivery boy for me again. Dad is expecting food so you know he probably called in a steak sandwich from the diner. Tell Deaton I’ll stop by in the morning.”

 

Scott dropped his head onto his arms and groaned, “Man I appreciate all of the hours he’s giving me but the cats still hate me. I think he’s using them to punish me for sleeping at work still.”

 

Jackson scoffed as he thumbed out another message on his phone, “He paid you for a two-hour nap, McCall. Suck it up.”

 

~~~

 

The rest of the day passed uneventfully if you could call experimentation uneventful. Erica talked him out of his bracelet, and Derek let him take a shower- a blissfully hot shower that left him feeling pink and new. Jackson left some time before he came back from the bathroom, and Isaac informed him that he was taking Boyd home and that he was going to have an obligatory dinner with his parents that afternoon. Stiles sent him a message along the lines of ‘good luck’ and perched in the chair at Derek’s desk.

 

Reading the books loaned by their local Veterinarian gave him a sense of control over himself. Even as he paged through meticulous records of this hunter torturing his kind for ‘proof that they were truly demons sent from the pits of hell’. There were useful bits of information buried in each article, facts like claws for instance. Points where he wrote that firm pressure at the corner of the nostrils forced Cubi – as Stiles started calling the general collective of Succubi and Incubi alike - to drop their fangs. He tested it and felt the sting in his nerves, and there they were, slightly longer and definitely a hell of a lot sharper than his very human teeth. He licked across them and twisted his face up at the sharp flavor that coated his tongue.

 

“Well that’s not subtle,” He tried to wash the taste down with his now room-temperature lemonade and flicked his tail behind him as he tried to focus back on the book. Golden eyes skimmed through and he was glad to find out that venom even from the opposite sex couldn’t cause a reaction in him. Not that he expected his own venom that his own body could create would have an ill effect if he swallowed it. That just didn’t make sense in a biological standpoint.

 

His fangs retracted with a little extra thought, and he sat there playing with his newly developed attribute. Down, up, down, up. Each time they extended another wave of venom coated his mouth. It left his lemonade tasting bland, warm, and salty. The motion started to make his gums feel achy and sore after a few more attempts and he stopped. By then he half read the majority of an experiment on essence deprivation, which somehow made his stomach twist and growl at the same time. There was a sick, satisfied page where this hunter detailed locking a Succubus and an Incubus in a vault together for a month, only to come back to find them both mutilated and dead. He closed the book.

 

“You want takeout?” Erica called. Stiles looked up from the smooth leather cover and ran his tongue over his teeth again as he searched her out in the open floor plan. He found her laying on top of Isaac on the couch, limbs tangled around one another as though they had been napping. He wouldn’t be surprised, Isaac was finally in a state of mind where sleeping wasn’t terrifying, and Erica was soaking up bonding time.

 

“Sure. You guys want to try that new Thai place that opened last month? I kind of want spicy,” He then leaned forward and braced his cheek against the heel of his hand, “And if I can have dessert before the delivery boy gets here I’ll make brookies.”

 

Isaac’s head popped up at the promise of sweets, “Brownies and cookies mashed together?”

 

Stiles’ tail flicked languidly behind him, “Mhmmmm. I think Derek’s oven works. If not then we can just eat the batter.”

 

Erica spread her hand out on the side of Isaac’s face and shoved his head back down on the couch, “I call dibs on licking the bowl!”

 

“Not fair,” Isaac whined from his pinned place, “You can’t call dibs unless you’re his dessert!”

 

Erica looked at Stiles and he lifted his shoulders up, “If I cook, my last meal gets the first taste. We kind of came to that agreement after Jackson came into the picture.”

 

Her face turned thoughtful, but when Isaac tried to sit back up she shoved him down again, ruthlessly. The other beta whined under her until she released him, “Deal.” She hopped up and strode over to him, “Tell me what you need me to do. Isaac, you can order dinner. I want something sweet and sour.” Isaac twisted around on the couch and cast them a glower before doing as he was told.

 

Stiles looked away from Erica and watched as Isaac looked up the phone number, “They have shrimp fried rice, you might like it.” He perked up a little more and Stiles figured that made up for the brookie incident. “Spicy chicken curry and spring rolls for me.” Isaac bobbed his head and stood up to go find Derek upstairs.

 

“So,” Stiles turned back to Erica and pat the table for her to sit down on the empty space. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Isaac when he volunteered. If I start to hurt you, shove me away. If it turns out we’re not a good match, I’ll go find Isaac; no harm, no foul. No touching below the belt- that _includes_ my tail, Erica. Don’t give me that look.” Her pout fell with a huff as she pulled herself onto the table. Stiles stood up out of his chair and brushed the end of her braid over her shoulder, “You’ll be tired afterward, alright?”

 

“Yeah, just wake me up for food if I fall asleep before then.” She pulled him into the space between her knees to rest against the table and Stiles was immediately thankful that she had sat so far back. “Do we taste different to you?” Erica asked suddenly, and Stiles dropped his head so his chin rested against his chest, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

 

He sat his hands on the table either side of her legs and picked his head back up, eyes twinkling as he tried to suppress the wide grin threatening to break on his face, “Yeah, yeah you do. And you all look different so far too. Scott tastes kind of like a barbeque pineapple pizza,” She made a face, “Yeah, kind of weird but sweet and a little spicy. He’s… orange and smoky? Jackson is lime green and crackling like lightning, he kind of tastes like key lime pie and something else I’m still trying to pick up. Isaac is like mint- color and flavor- and he sparkles like, well like a sparkler. It’s like eating carbonated ice cream.”

 

Erica leaned closer and Stiles saw the way her eyes lingered on his mouth, “What do I look like?” Stiles felt their noses bump.

 

“Thrumming deep magenta,” He breathed. Their heads came closer until she pressed their mouths together. It was anything but sweet and innocent. She kissed with a passion that had his head swimming, the sound of his heart thrumming in his head in time to the pulses of the aura haloing around her. The aura that he tasted on her tongue, bold and creamy and tart.

 

Erica’s hands cupped his jaw and he leaned further into her, fingers pressing hard against the table as he sought that flavor. They kissed quick and dirty, heads twisting this way and that as they pushed into each other’s personal space like a reverse game of tug-o-war. His hand came up to grip at the back of her head and her hands moved to his sides, fisting into his shirt with a low growl. It felt like he was choking, her essence was so heavy on his tongue that it weighed him down and filled his lungs with each inhale.

 

Their tongues twirled and darted between both of their mouths, teeth nipping, biting, bruising. It felt like they were rushing- it felt _intimate_ and he didn’t understand why but there was this static feeling shooting through his spine telling him he wanted to do more. Her hands were tracing his sides, sliding up to his back, dragging back down to his waist and forward around his ribs. His tail thrashed as he leaned into it, feeling his mind blur for just a second- only a second.

 

Erica jerked like she had been shocked and he hissed as they parted from one another, pain shooting down his torso. And then clarity came back to him. He blinked and cleared the fog from his eyes as his hand rubbed over his stomach. His teeth grit together at the second flash of cutting pain and he looked down to see the thin scoring marks that slanted from the outside edges of his ribs, blood welling to the surface, “What the hell, Erica?!”

 

Stiles looked back up at her and he saw her hands raised up to her mouth, eyes wide in shock as she looked at the thin streaks of blood that crawled down his skin, “Oh my god, Stiles, I’m so sorry I didn’t-!”

 

“What happened?” Feet thundered down the spiral stairs to his right and Stiles swallowed as he pulled the shirt off to rub at the blood. It wasn’t anywhere near deep enough to warrant concern- if anything it was like he had a really bad run-in with… a really big cat- okay so maybe it was a little concerning. He looked back up and watched Erica hesitantly reach out like she wanted to touch him.

 

“I really, really didn’t mean to,” She whined.

 

Stiles let out a breath and nodded, “I know. I think… I don’t know- maybe I made you do it somehow. I know you wouldn’t do this on purpose, it’s okay.” Derek was pushed into his personal space, head ducked to get a better look at the long, thin scratches. Stiles let him take the wadded up shirt out of his hand and tried to keep his tail from whipping into the wolf as he prodded at the marks. He should be more uncomfortable with the touch but for whatever reason, the panic that had clutched at his chest started to loosen its grip.

 

Isaac comforted Erica and she clung to him like she was terrified. Considering what had just happened, he couldn’t really blame her for it. From the looks of it, Stiles was still human in the regards of his healing speed. He didn’t mention that he could gain those supernatural speeds if he just gave into his nature. So Stiles tried to give her a reassuring smile; face crinkling as he hissed again when Derek slid his hand against the deepest wound. “Maybe I shouldn’t feed from you,” Stiles said.

 

Erica nodded and swallowed as her eyes remained glued to the sluggish bleeding, “Maybe…”


	5. Sweet Coffee & Strawberries

By the time the delivery boy turns up with their food, Stiles has been given two comically sized rectangle bandages over his stomach. They joked that it looked like he was getting ready for the defibrillator even though he knew the patches were in the wrong places. Erica was still hesitant to touch him again, but once he was tended to he made sure to pull her into a tight enough hug that some of the tension drained out of her.

 

“I’m okay,” He told her, “Don’t beat yourself up over this. I mean, you’ve done worse to me before.” She laughed and sniffled while they stood there a while longer before Stiles went to get one of the spare shirts he had packed.

 

Derek answered the door and accepted the three bags, tipped the boy and closed the door again before he had a chance to look around and notice anything out of place; like Stiles, walking around with gold infused eyes and a wicked looking devil tail. They sat close to each other in the living room, side dishes spread out on the table and various bottled drinks popped open around the corners. Stiles and Isaac stole food from one another- mostly Stiles stealing a piece of shrimp and Isaac making the mistake of trying to eat some of his chicken curry. If werewolves could breathe fire, they were sure they would have witnessed it today.

 

Erica kept sneaking Stiles pieces of her sweet and sour pork when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, and he returned the favor with one of his spring rolls which eventually ended up on Derek’s plate, and then in Derek’s stomach. Stiles was the only one proficient in chopsticks, and he watched fondly as Isaac tried to master them as well. Erica just skewered her food on the end of one with a sharp smile, and Derek kept to the plastic spork that came with his dinner. It was nice really. He was reminded of the warm feeling from lunch and decided he would try and make pack meals a more consistent thing.

 

When they finished, Erica admitted to having to go home, and Isaac announced that he would take her. Derek gave him the keys to his car, and after a few too many crushing hugs, they were alone together. Stiles scratched at his bandages and grimaced as the wounds underneath stung in protest, and Derek cleaned up the trash left over from dinner, “Stop touching it.” Stiles’ hand dropped away from the front of his shirt and he childishly stuck his tongue out.

 

“It itches! Are you sure you didn’t cover these things in tarantula hair or something?” Stiles lifted his shirt to examine the edges of the tape and frowned at the pinkened spots bleeding through the gauze, “Oh.”

 

Derek shoved the last empty container into a bag, “I told you to leave it alone, Stiles.” He frowned and Stiles looked up long enough to see him move around the table to come look at it himself. The teen peeled back one of the corners and grimaced at how irritated it looked.

 

“So what do you think? Dirty claws, sudden allergic reaction to werewolves, or in general inflammation?” He pulled the patch off completely and made a face as it pulled the peach fuzz on his skin. Yeah, that hurt; it even brought a little moisture to his eyes.

 

Derek’s brows knit together and Stiles hoped he wouldn’t say he needed to go to the clinic. Really, Stiles would rather save those days for severe injuries- you know like gunshots, stab wounds, goring by mythical beasts and supernatural poisoning events. Not because Erica accidentally scratched him with all ten of her vicious-looking claws. “There’s a decked out first aid kit in the Jeep,” Stiles offered, getting Derek to look away from his pale torso, “I’ll go grab it.”

 

He moved to stand up and a hand pushed him back down, strong and flat against the center of his chest. His tail crooked back and forth at the touch and his heart skipped when Derek’s eyes flashed back up at him. Stiles had to bite his lip when he felt the unfamiliar pull of Derek’s pain draining; though it was pointless when a long, low purr built in his chest almost instantly. Those fingers soften and burned against his skin beautifully and he had to make a mental note to read up more on the effects of skin to skin contact involving Incubi. Or maybe he was just touch-starved and the intimacy made it feel even better?

 

The itch slowly evaporated, along with every other minor pain in his body and his eyelids drooped more and more the longer Derek kept his hand there. The rock of his thumb was so slight against his sternum that Stiles half wondered if he imagined it. He didn’t imagine the second hand on his knee as Derek moved to stand back up, his palm coming off of his chest and his fingers pushing just a little harder before he completely released Stiles. “You stay here. Don’t move.” Derek gave him a pointed look and Stiles sank into the blue cushions behind him agreeably, feeling almost high.

 

“Hey… Doesn’t werewolf saliva have healing properties?” He drawled.

 

“Stiles, I’m not licking your wounds.”

 

“Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t taste all that great anyway.” Stiles hummed as he closed his eyes and shifted around until he was lying on the couch, tail tapping lazily on the ground, “M’still hungry... Do you think Isaac will be back soon?” He waved his fingers over his stomach, “These things are telling me to eat.”

 

Derek slowly came back into view where Stiles had propped his feet up on the other end of the couch, and he watched the wolf look between his face and the claw marks on his skin, “What are you talking about?”

 

Stiles smiled and licked his lips, stretched his arms far over his head as he enjoyed this full body buzz Derek had gifted him with. It reminded him of that brief hum he felt at the first party Lydia had ever invited him to. The steady low pulse that calmed his overactive brain and just let him float without the constant grind of what-ifs that plagued him. Thankfully it didn’t bring on the hard crash that involved him hallucinating about his dad screaming it was his fault, that he was a disappointment. His next words came accompanied with a yawn, ”If I consume other energies like I’m supposed to, these go away. If they go away, I don’t feel like my body is going to implode, but I’m not going to try it on Isaac. I can get some of the same effect if I just take essence.”

 

Derek muttered something Stiles didn’t quite catch, but his hand was there again, holding the discarded bandage up against his ribs, “You’re bleeding again.” Oh, he was? Stiles lifted his head and looked at himself, but Derek had a steady pressure over the wounds with one hand, and the other kept him still, resting over the bunched up fabric of his shirt this time instead of against his skin. He kind of wished Derek would push his shirt out of the way, it would surely make this whole concerned pinch to his eyebrows look more appealing.

 

“Why won’t you do it if it’ll heal you?”

 

Stiles shrugged one shoulder and dropped his head back down onto the seat, “Because it’s not the same. The meal I need for healing is… more than essence, it’s like… ” Stiles flipped his hand through the air as he tried to think of a way to describe it. He gave up when it didn’t come to him in a few seconds. “It’s different. Everyone is too close for me to do _that_.”

 

Derek sat on the edge of the couch and Stiles turned his attention to his scruffy beard instead of the indistinguishable color of his eyes as they were hidden behind dark, thick lashes. “Essence is a quick fix- it feeds the hunger I have for magic and sure, magic could heal me but I would need a lot of it.” Stiles’ eyes dilated and he licked his lips as he watched the ebb and flow of Derek’s aura waving him in and asking him to partake, “You look like you’d have plenty, but I fed on you yesterday.”

 

Derek’s eyes drug away from his, down to the marks on his skin peeking out between his fingers and the gauze. Stiles felt his expression soften as he pat the back of Derek’s hand with his own, “These are fine. We’ll put new bandages on them and they’ll heal in a few days. Even if I don’t take as much as I would need to heal these in one go, bursts of essence helps them along a little. I’ll talk to one of the others in the morning since I didn’t get as much from Erica.” From the way Derek’s shoulders tensed, Stiles figured that the alpha didn’t believe him.

 

“Did you know that I can actually do magic now? Like, real magic, using the stuff that I pull from you guys,” Derek had gone quiet and Stiles was slowly coming back to the surface of the warm pool of contentment he had been in, brain bringing up little facts he had read in the books. His hands fluttered against his stomach and the couch as he spoke, “Blood magic and stuff. And I can still handle mountain ash, which is pretty sweet. The specialty book Deaton loaned me also says that blood magic is one of the second strongest forms of magic. I also stumbled across this page while flipping through it that explains this ritual for protection, but that’s not just blood magic, there’s this whole physical aspect to it too.”

 

He was ready to explain what he remembered of the ritual but his words were choked off into a surprised gasp as Derek fixed him with this _look_ and ran his hand over his tail. He almost arched off of the couch at the bolt that licked up his spine; he probably would have sat straight up if it weren’t for Derek’s hand still steady on his chest. He bit his lip hard as Derek made it to the tip of his tail and whimpered when he stroked the spade with a calloused thumb, “If I have enough of this essence stuff that you need, you should take it.”

 

His tail whipped and squirmed as Derek rubbed circles against the flat side, making Stiles bite harder at his lip until he was sure he could taste the tang of iron. His toes curled into his feet and pressed against the arm of the couch, knuckles popped and clicked in protest. “I’ll hurt you,” He muttered, trying valiantly again to try and steal his tail away. Derek just held firm and reversed the pattern, pulling chills over his skin. God, did he even know what he was doing? “I don’t want to just use people, Derek- I don’t want you to think that you have no choice but to do this.”

 

He groaned lowly and thankfully the wolf relented, Stiles’ tail slithered out of his grasp and slapped against his ankles as it writhed from being touched. He reached out a hand and clutched the limb up to his chest in an attempt to save Derek from the harsh whips, and released a slow, controlled breath as he tried to calm down. “You know it’s incredibly rude to grab someone’s tail without their permission.” He heard a soft snort above him in response.

 

“I mean it Stiles if you need something from me, anything at all, you should come get it. I won’t ask, and I’ll tell you no if I think it’s unreasonable.”

 

Stiles frowned down at his tail and tried to smooth out the tingling, tried to desensitize it to touch for all of three seconds. The damage had already been done; he probably reeked of arousal and stunk of desperation because Derek had been a massive _ass_ and _teased him._ And the alpha was avoiding it- or he was using it as leverage to get Stiles to agree because now Stiles was wide awake, his body was twitchy and all he could think about was pulling the other male down on top of him and breathing him in to the point of bursting. “Are you sure? Because you’re telling me to seek you out when I’m injured, and I’m pretty sure the last time someone bled in your loft you looked like you sucked five lemons.”

 

“You’re bleeding right now, Stiles. I think I would rather you didn’t smell like blood and pain. If that means taking care of your hunger so you can actually heal yourself, I’m sure we’ve already clarified that I don’t mind stepping up to the plate.”

 

“Hah, the wolf has food jokes,” Stiles snorted.

 

The palm of Derek’s hand stroked down the center of his torso, skirted the edge of his gauze and tucked into the cool space between his hip and the back of the couch, and Stiles’ eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of it. He jerked when a warm breath caressed the shell of his ear but couldn’t convince himself to look at Derek again with the rosy hue rising to his cheeks, “I’m serious, Stiles. Don’t make me repeat myself.” There was the barest stretch of time between Derek’s words and the brush of a stubble-crusted cheek against his jaw that made his mouth pop open. He couldn’t resist the desire to lean into the touch, feeling Derek’s facial hair catch and scratch even more over his skin, leaving it red in its wake.

 

“You know,” Stiles breathed, fingers untangling from his now limp tail to raise and find Derek’s chest blindly, “I don’t remember what it was like kissing you in the preserve.” He drug Derek so that their faces were aligned, and forced himself to open his eyes, golden tendrils billowing around his pupils and melting into the honey brown glow caught by the dipping sun coming through the window. His eyes dropped down to Derek’s mouth and then came right back up to see the red glint flash through Derek’s pupils as the sun hit his face just right. The wolf’s expression melted the rest of his trepidation, “You think I might remember this time?”

 

Derek didn’t give him a verbal answer. He leaned down the rest of the way and their mouths connected in a flare of warmth that made Stiles sigh softly. He let Derek set the pace of the kiss, just enjoying the slide of their mouths together, trading between who nipped where. Stiles even went so far as to break the kiss long enough to bite Derek’s chin and grinned when that pulled a growl from him. Their kiss turned from reassuring and almost sweet to a show of dominance which Stiles thoroughly appreciated. His hands clenched over Derek’s shoulders before he gave in and carded his hands into the hair at the back of his head.

 

Derek made a small sound as Stiles scratched his nails over his scalp and- ah, there it was. Sweet and spicy and warm; he mentally tugged on it and the cloud followed. He sampled it slowly and purred as it felt like he was experiencing a nice memory. They broke for a few pants of breath, where Stiles asked if Derek was okay before they connected again. He felt claws grazing his skin for the second time that day but he wasn’t worried; Derek had phenomenal control and even if Stiles did something that made that slip he trusted Derek enough not to hurt him.

 

At some point, Derek got the idea in his head to collect Stiles against him and move them to the corner of the room where his bed was all made up for the night. The shift in position from laying to being held upright made him pull Derek’s hair, which encouraged an overflow of essence and a quiet groan from both of them, “What y’doin?” The words came quick, skimming over Derek’s lips because Stiles really, really didn’t want to let this end yet.

 

He did end up loosening his grip enough that Derek could see where he was placing Stiles and the teen immediately wanted to drag him back in, “We’re not sleeping on the couch,” The incubus felt pride and pleasure slither through his body at his breathless tone. Stiles fanned his fingers out and swept dark hair from Derek’s sunset-glowing skin, eyes cataloging the look as he smiled at him.

 

He pulled lightly and Derek let him tug him back down so that their bodies slotted together. Stiles didn’t think it was possible to turn his tail in certain directions but it immediately found its new favorite home spiraled around a strong thigh, “We?” Amusement danced in his eyes and in his tone, “I didn’t take you for the cuddling type.”

 

Derek’s thumb traced his hip and he felt his tail tighten its grip on the wolf’s leg, “I think you owe it to me for the five-course meal.” They were lying mostly on their sides, with Stiles leaning back toward the mattress and Derek propped up on one elbow, looming over him. There was a softness to his eyes that Stiles decided was from the way the light played off of them. He told himself that it was beautiful and that he didn’t feel anything else for it.

 

He hummed and followed the hairline behind Derek’s ear, “Five? If we’re counting I think I’m only on four.” Derek’s lips were red and kiss-swollen, and Stiles _did that_. He would have liked to see the lingering imprint of his teeth on Derek’s chin as well, but werewolves were fantastic healers. “You want to try something?” He asked suddenly, receiving raised eyebrows even as that thumb continued to rub warm paths over his skin.

 

“I’m going to give some back,” Stiles’ voice was soft and he let his left hand come around to curve over Derek’s jaw, “Or at least, I’m going to try. Apparently it’s something we can do, and I think it will help you recover. Consider that part a hunch.”

 

Derek leaned into his hand and Stiles let his thumb run over his smooth cheekbone as Derek tilted his head down to nose into the soft skin at his wrist. Stiles realized in that moment that Derek had been scent marking him nearly the whole time. That cheek thing at first, and his hand petting down his torso, the soft touches against his skin and now this wrist thing- it made his heart flutter. “Alright.”

 

“Yeah?” Stiles leaned up, and Derek let their foreheads touch. His eyes slid closed and Stiles admired how nice Derek’s lashes were.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Their positions changed with a slow, easy suggestion; Stiles softly pushed Derek until the wolf was lying on his back, and Derek’s hand wrapped around to touch the curve of his lower back. It was intimate and reassuring and Stiles could feel himself falling more and more because Derek trusted him enough to be this vulnerable; he trusted him enough to try something he hadn’t done before. It was dangerous but Stiles felt some starved part of him wishing for more.

 

Stiles touched his lips against Derek’s, feeling him press against his, and hearing the near-silent rumble in his chest. He told himself that it was just like when he kissed Isaac or Jackson or Scott, because they all grumbled, growled or ‘purred’ in some way when he was feeding on them. He didn’t let it settle into the minuscule fissures of his heart. He didn’t answer with his own chittery purr or feel the way Derek’s hand slid infinitesimally further up his spine.

 

His right hand swept down the side of Derek’s neck and onto his chest, his forearm dropping to rest along with it as he focused a little more on drawing up that well of energy. It sparked and bloomed in his throat, almost protesting before it unfurled, tingling on his tongue as he exhaled. Derek breathed it in like Stiles was sharing a shotgun kiss with him and his body arched into him like someone tied a string between the crown of his head and his heels and plucked a soothing melody on it. It was small and short-lived but successful and the reaction it caused was nearly addictive.

 

The sharp prickling sensation of Derek’s claws brought him back to earth and he slowly leaned back, eyes slipping open with a long blink for good measure, “Okay?” It felt like that had become his new word. He asked it so many times now, making sure everyone was ‘okay’ when he fed, or when something happened and they just couldn’t talk about what it was. Okay was their check-in word, okay was like a sentence packed into two little syllables and every time it had a slightly different meaning.

 

He held his breath when Derek’s eyes opened and they were burning vermillion, his hands flexed against his skin and Stiles swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat at the sight. It burned into his mind and left behind this memory of Derek’s hair sticking out in weird angles and his mouth even more red than usual, and those _eyes_. Those eyes did things to him that he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself, let alone aloud.

 

“Yeah… yeah, that was…” Derek, at a loss for words; Stiles had seen it all now. He just quirked one corner of his mouth and let himself look down on that masterpiece for a little longer. Once he was sure Derek felt like he was being stared at for far too long he shuffled further down to rest his head on Derek’s chest and sagged into his warmth. “Is that what you feel?”

 

 Stiles listened to the steady lub-dub of Derek’s heartbeat and hummed out a pleased, “Mhmm,” while he watched the last sliver of the Sun dip past the horizon.

 

“Wow.”

 

~~~

 

He woke up weighed down by not one, but two werewolves and his shirt miraculously missing. He vaguely remembered throwing it off somewhere in the middle of the night because he had been miserably warm under the covers with two supernatural space heaters shoved against him. _Two of them._ Isaac came back to the loft after making sure Erica would be alright, and Stiles had been trapped ever since. Derek hadn’t been bad; in fact, Stiles had been pleased when they initially agreed to have Stiles curled up on his chest. When Isaac was added to the mix they adjusted enough for the beta to snuff his face into Stiles’ back, with Derek’s arm draping over the both of them. It had shoved his nose directly into the collar of Derek’s form-fitting tank top but Stiles could hardly complain. Until now.

 

He slapped a hand blindly behind himself to push down the covers, unveiling Isaac’s unruly mop of curly hair plastered to his lower back. The beta groaned in protest as sunlight lapped at his eyelids and jerked the cover right back over his head. Stiles slumped back into the mattress and loudly sighed out his suffering, face shoved deep into the pillow he had stolen from Derek’s side of the bed. Derek’s scruff rasped over the back of his shoulder blade and Stiles had to choke back a sound mixed between a giggle and a moan.

 

“Come on guys, I need to take a leak and Isaac you are _so_ not helping,” The other teen was still for what felt like minutes before he peeled himself off and Stiles squirmed his way out from under Derek so he could flee to the bathroom. He hissed at the first touch of his feet to the cold concrete floor before he braved it, his only other option was to risk being claimed by the nest of wolves again. He almost wondered if it would be worth it to take another shower, but decided against it when he caught the blurry numbers on the alarm strategically placed on the desk far away from the bed. Derek likely smashed them if they were within arm’s reach.

 

After he relieved himself in the bathroom, he washed his hands and splashed his face with cold water to wake up further. He looked up to the tarnished mirror above the sink and thanks to the weird angle it was tilted at, was immediately drawn to the claw marks Erica had left on him. They were thin and silvering, just the faintest scab here and there on his skin where only hours ago it looked like she had used him as a scratching post. He ran his damp hands over the markings and smiled to himself, pleased. Granted, if he went with more ‘traditional’ routes to heal his body he wouldn’t have the scarring at all.

 

He took a few more minutes to stand there and catalog the old wounds dotting his bared skin. Cuts and some weirdly angled scars from encounters with walls, doors, the occasional tree; he figured he didn’t look too much like he had gone to war if he just ignored the newest additions. His eyes fell to the thin, near-invisible web of scarring that decorated each palm and he swallowed down the memory of muffled screams and the sound of rattling chains. His cheek flared in false pain and he rubbed at it as he stepped out of the bathroom.

 

Derek was standing in the kitchen, boiling a small pot of water and twisting up a coffee filter full of strong dark roast to make their hot beverages. At least, Stiles hoped that his coffee was included now that the pack wasn’t there to hound them for one massive pot, “You should really buy a proper coffee maker. Maybe one of those French press ones; you look like the kind of person that would appreciate a good French press.” He slides around the table and hoists himself up onto it with an almost comically wide yawn stretching his face.

 

“You’re looking better,” He hears in response. He blinks his eyes open again and looks at Derek as the older man turns off the stove and drops the little bound up coffee ‘bag’ into the hot water.

 

“Yeah, thanks to you,” Stiles remembered the taste of something like a crème brulee and the soft way Derek had pressed his mouth against his own. He cleared his throat, “How are you feeling? I can make breakfast if you’re hungry; I make a mean poached egg,” He waged his brows at Derek as best he could, and Derek turned his eyes skyward at him.

 

“I don’t feel any different than I did yesterday.”

 

“Did yesterday feel different than the days before?” Stiles asked, feet kicking slowly beneath him as he watched the wolf stir the slowly darkening water in the pot. “You’re supposed to have felt a little fatigued or hungry at least. What I did doesn’t completely reverse what I take from you.” His gaze grew curious and he focused a little more, checking in with the color that enveloped the alpha wolf.

 

“I’m fine, Stiles.”

 

He hummed and narrowed his eyes, following the way his aura moved. He stared for a little while longer before he blinked it away and decided to ask Deaton when he goes to see him. Which, he should get ready to do considering the clinic opened an hour ago. Derek stepped into his view and pressed a mug of dark, hot, sweetened coffee into his hands and Stiles groaned as it warmed his chilled fingers, “It’s like I’m holding a werewolf between my fingers,” He pressed the rim to his lips and sipped gratefully.

 

Derek raised his eyebrows at him, standing across from the table with his own mug held in one large hand. Stiles rose his own in response, the tip of his tail flicking slowly on the table, “If you really want to know I can think of about seventeen different ways that werewolves are like coffee.”

 

“Are you staying here again today?” Derek asked instead, mouth blocked by his mug.

 

Stiles drummed his fingers over the pale ceramic, “I thought about it. But Lydia wants dinner, and I have to let Deaton do whatever it is he wants once I finish breakfast. That leaves the whole middle of the day open. I’ll probably just go home, do some laundry, prep meals for the rest of the week, see if I can find some more info on Cubi and nests. I think my dad wants to talk about it too, he mentioned wanting me back at the house tonight.” If he were honest with himself he didn’t really want to talk to his dad after the week of avoidance. He frowned against his mug and sighed through his nose, kicking up the hot steam around his face.

 

Derek’s cup lowered and Stiles’ eyes came back up to his face, “You want someone there?”

 

He took a long draft and nearly emptied his mug as a chance to think it over, “I’d like the support, but I have no idea how it’s going to go. We haven’t exactly been in the same room together since he came home and found me looking like this. If I have someone else there I feel like he’ll clam up or feel like I’m presenting some kind of united force thing against him. I think he’s afraid.”

 

It wasn’t easy to think of his dad being afraid of something. His dad was the sheriff, after all; he faced off robbers and murderers and he delivered babies in the back of his cruiser. He adjusted to werewolves pretty easily, once he had proof of them. But the part that twisted his stomach was that his dad could be afraid of _him_ or what he might do. He swirled the coffee around in his mug and canted his head to the side, “I was kind of hoping that he had already known,” Stiles admitted, “That he thought I wouldn’t be an incubus after years of raising me to be his human son, but that he would accept it. That he’d tell me about my mom and how she dealt with all of this. But I guess that was stupid of me- he wouldn’t have judged me as hard when I told him about werewolves and druids if he had known we existed in the first place.”

 

“Stiles, he’s going to come around to it. Not everyone is like you and accepts that there are werewolves and Kitsune and druids in the world.” Stiles could get that, he really could. As soon as he realized what was going on with Scott he had accepted it and tried to help him learn control. He didn’t give himself a chance to reject the truth and live in his false bubble of security. Werewolves were real- okay, he could do that. Kira was a Kitsune? No problem, just another creature to research. Even Jackson being a Kanima had been pretty easy to handle. Lydia was a Banshee, Jennifer Blake was an evil nature witch, and Stiles was an Incubus.

 

Derek’s warm paw on his shoulder jerked him out of his listing of every creature they had dealt with and Stiles offered the smallest curve of his lips, “Yeah. I guess.” His eyes locked with the other’s for a moment before the smile became more genuine as he examined the color of Derek’s eyes today.

 

“You know, I never thought I’d know someone who literally has rainbow eyes,” He chuckled.

 

Derek apparently thought that this was a good time to refill his mug and Stiles found himself missing the warm weight of his hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re using ‘literally’ in the wrong context, Stiles.”

 

“Not really,” Stiles downed the rest of his coffee and hopped off of the table to put his cup in the sink, “You have alpha red, had beta yellow, your eyes like to shift between this golden-olive, hazel-grey combo, and then there were the blue beta eyes. Really all you’re missing is orange and purple,” Stiles’ face went thoughtful, “Actually I wonder what supernatural creature would have purple eyes. There’s a genetic mutation for purple eyes in humans but it’s kind of like a form of albinism.”

 

He stepped around Derek to get to the fridge and pulled out a plastic crate of strawberries to bring to the sink. Once he had them rinsed he lifted one up and took a bite, “You should bring Isaac by for dinner.” The strawberry is tart but just sweet enough and he finds himself licking juice from his thumb as he turns to Derek. Derek who was already facing him and eyeing the stem held between his fingers.

 

“Won’t he have to stay the night afterward?” Derek asked as Stiles stole another choice looking berry from the container.

 

Stiles snorted and nipped off the end of the fruit, “I meant like real dinner. Lydia wants salmon, Isaac likes seafood, I like cooking for bigger groups of people. So you guys should come. Besides, you won’t tell me what food you like so I have to figure out what you do and don’t like. Don’t tell me you’re going to turn down some free food,” He took another bite and hummed softly, tail tapping the cabinets as it wagged.

 

Derek followed his lead and took one of the strawberries, and Stiles watched as he engulfed it. Maybe strawberries were a bad idea? Stiles licked his lips and quickly stuffed what was left of his own fruit into his mouth. Derek tossed his strawberry stem into the nearby garbage bin and Stiles watched the way he swiped leftover juice from his lips, “Sure.”

 

The agreement snapped him back into the present where it wasn’t nice to stare at unfairly handsome werewolves while they ate their breakfast, “Cool.”

 

Stiles took one last strawberry and turned to go find his duffle so he could change for the day, “Dinner is at 6:30, bring a drink or two if you don’t want an orange soda or bottled water.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's this week's chapter since I won't be online Thursday! I hope you all have a lovely week ahead of you, and if not, I wish you all the possible strength to get through it!


	6. Melancholy & Petrichor

He wasn’t too surprised when it turned out to be Derek who found him. He’s been gone all night, phone silenced in his pocket, though it vibrated almost non-stop at him for the last two hours. He kept his eyes closed as he listened to his name being shouted through the trees. Footsteps started to come close enough for him to hear them, and they slowed as Derek apparently caught his scent. Stiles had been in that one spot for the past hour, he was sure his scent had spread through the area well enough that Derek’s nose could catch it leagues away.

 

He listened as the leaves crunched and as a panting breath came to stand off to his left. He was lying in a copse of alder trees, stretched out on the ground in the sweatpants he had pulled on yesterday after his shower, and another donated Jackson hoodie was pulled over a shirt he had bought from the second-hand store- against Lydia’s wishes. He puffed out a sigh in the early morning dew and sucked in a chilled breath that tasted like wet earth and sweet plants, “You know, the whole point of not answering text messages is that I wanted to be alone and wallow in my own misery for a while.” He grumbled.

 

“Your dad said you ran away,” Derek answered. It made Stiles open his eyes just long enough to send the wolf a sharp glare before he closed them again, acting like he was trying to become one with the earth. How ironic. Or was that really irony?

 

His tail snapped irritably beside him, pointing skyward and tapping loudly beside his calf as he tried to reign himself in. “Is that all that he told you?” He asked, tone sharp and mouth tilted downward. He raised his hand up to rub his fingers over his lip when it stung from the action.

 

“Why are you out here, Stiles? Why didn’t you go to Scott’s house, or even come to my loft?” Derek took another few steps closer and Stiles could hear a hint of annoyance, but there was something more that he just couldn’t quite place yet.

 

“Because he knows where both of you live, where Jackson lives, where Lydia lives, where Erica and Boyd live. He’s the sheriff. So I went to a place where I could avoid him. And judging by the fact that you know I ran away from home, he knows that I _know_ he would have checked their houses and that I came all the way out here instead.” Stiles licked over the back of his teeth and turned an eye back to Derek as the wolf frowned down at him from where he stood now closer to his head.

 

“He called and told us that you ran off last night when he was trying to talk to you about your changes. He said he was worried,” Derek finally elaborated. His eyebrows did a funny little bounce when Stiles chirped out an angry laugh.

 

“Yeah? Well he left out some pretty big _fucking_ news,” Stiles knew that Derek didn’t deserve the tone he was using so he took a few seconds to breathe and count backward from ten. Once he seemed to have a little more control he started again, “It’s funny how Deaton tells me a story about how Cubi came into this world the same day my dad mentions trying to _cure_ me.”

 

“Cure you?” Derek’s expression crinkled with the slightest bit of confusion and Stiles nodded, “How are you supposed to ‘cure’ an Incubus?”

 

Stiles was ready for the question and gave Derek his most sarcastic smile he could muster, “Well, by killing them, of course. Slowly and painfully with a ritual done by seven priests with magic in their blood. But, you know, at least he will be burying the _human_ body of his son instead of living with the demon possessing him.”

 

Derek’s body went tense with the news and Stiles tried to give him a chance to process. His lips pursed as they stare at one another unblinking and Stiles eventually drops the fake smile so he can close his eyes and block everything out again. “Explain it to me so I can understand.” Stiles’ tail slowed to a halt beside him and he swallowed drily. He really wished he had some water right about now, not only to wet his throat but to give him a chance to avoid this whole thing.

 

“He wanted to talk to me last night about performing an exorcism. Said that there was a lot he could let slip past him in the world, like werewolves for example. But clearly, he can’t accept that I’m not possessed, that I’m the thing he thinks is a demon. If he tries to exorcise the ‘demon’ from my body with your generic flick of holy water, prayers of salvation and read sections from the bible nothing will happen. I might get a headache from all of the screaming people and the noise, but I’ll still be like this. The thing is, Deaton’s little story came at too suspicious of a time so I figure my dad already knows about the real ritual to ‘cleanse me of the curse placed on my bloodline’ or whatever.”

 

Derek crouched down and lowered himself onto the ground beside Stiles’ head and the teen turned to look at him, rolling onto his side and flicking his tail out behind him. He pushed his arm up underneath his head and licked over the split of his bottom lip as he thought back on the story he had sat through in the exam room of Deaton’s clinic. “Deaton told me about the first seven Cubi. Some priest tried to seduce a girl engaged to a lumberjack and after she rejected him one too many times he cursed her bloodline with some dark form of magic so she would lust after him like he did her. His ritual twisted his intention and turned her into a Succubus, and subsequently, the rest of her living family turned. Since the ritual turned seven people, it takes seven priests to undo it on the one person. Apparently, if that person has a child that hasn’t presented itself yet, it cleanses them too, and they won’t have any more cubi in their family line past that point.”

 

Stiles gave some bits of information that weren’t really important to their current conversation, but he figured if he talked around the subject Derek will at least have more knowledge on how this whole thing went down. As it was, the wolf was quiet for a while before he raised his hand to rub down his face. He looked tired like he had been expecting something terrible when he found Stiles, or that he had more experience beyond his years. Stiles’ stomach clenched at the thought that he was the one who made Derek look so worn down. “Does he know that the ritual will kill you if he tries to go through with it?”

 

“I told him.”

 

“And what did he say?”

 

“That it was the demon inside me convincing me that I was the one who was going to die because it was afraid to be forced out of my body. I told him that he was insane; we got into a yelling match trying to talk over each other and convince the other that one of us was right. I got angry and my teeth kind of appeared, and he slapped me thinking it would make the demon go back into hiding instead of attacking him… So I left.” Stiles murmured most of the last part but Derek had super hearing, he could probably hear his lungs contracting as he pushed the words out of his mouth if he wanted to. Instead, Derek reached out and touched his hand to Stiles’ cold cheek, and the Incubus felt warmth seep into him as pain bled out.

 

Thankfully Derek didn’t draw it all out, so Stiles was able to keep his thoughts running a thousand miles a minute in his head. He leaned into the warm palm and sighed against the cuff of the alpha’s leather jacket. Eventually, Derek broke the span of silence, “I’ll have to tell him that I found you. The whole pack has been searching for you since sunrise, and if he still thinks that you’re missing by lunchtime he’ll have the entire town in on it too.”

 

“I’m not going back there until he comes to his senses,” Stiles frowned. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his dad alone, but at the same time, the prospect of being killed because his dad cared too much told him he needed to stay away. Going home would likely only cause more pain for the both of them, and he wasn’t sure if he could stand that in comparison to letting him determine his own meals over however long he would be out of the house.

 

“You’ll stay with me. I’ll have one of the betas pick up your things.”

 

“Send Lydia. She’ll know what still fits since I haven’t really given myself a minute to go through everything I have,” Stiles dropped his hand on top of Derek’s and let the heat seep into his numbed fingers, “Maybe Scott so he can carry the enormous bag she’ll pack. And tell him I want my ceramic pot and the muffin pan. You really need cookware, Sourwolf,” Derek’s hand adjusted so that he was holding Stiles’ while he spoke. He pulled both of hands down underneath his chin when a misty morning breeze snaked through the preserve so he could steal a little more of the excess body heat.

 

“Jesus, Stiles, you’re freezing!” Derek’s voice hissed as the backs of his knuckles grazed the cold underside of his chin. He almost jerked away from the unexpected chill but Stiles held firm to his hand and doubled his efforts to keep it close to his neck.

 

Stiles snorted quietly, “Did you forget the part where I said I was here all night? I’m not like you guys; throwing off heat all over the place. I burned off a lot of energy to get here.” Derek extracted his hand which made Stiles search for it with the flap of a palm on the leaves and again against Derek’s jean-clad knee. He watched as the wolf shucked off his jacket and draped it over him like a superficial blanket. It radiated heat and Stiles immediately ducked his face into the collar with a groan of satisfaction and gratitude, “Oh my _godddd_.” He clutched the armpits of the jacket in his fingers and purred as warmth enveloped him.

 

Derek took his phone from his pocket and dialed Lydia to fill her in well enough that she knew what was going on, what to pick up and where Stiles was going to be. He listened idly and yawned loudly into the soft lining that hid the lower half of his face. It only interrupted his purr for a split moment, then the noise was back full force, vibrating in his chest and up his throat in contentment. She must have asked what had Stiles in such a good mood because Stiles could almost _hear_ the smile in Derek’s voice, “No reason in particular.”

 

“His jacket is _so fucking warm_ , Lydia, oh my god,” Stiles groaned from the ground, knowing the banshee could hear him on the other end of the phone. He missed the way Derek’s ears tinged pink at whatever she said to him. “I’m never giving it back.”

 

~~~

 

“-s the deal with that heinous yellow hoodie?” Stiles picked his head up from its resting place on his bicep and blinked tiredly at Boyd who was climbing off of the couch.

 

“Rude,” He muttered, then promptly tucked his face back into his yellow sleeve and the back of Derek’s neck with a grunt.

 

He did end up giving the jacket back when Derek deposited him in the passenger seat of his car. The alpha was kind enough to blast the heat in the Camaro and Stiles fell asleep with his knees in his chest and his head resting against the door. Of course, the nap had been cut short when Derek had to catch him before he ate gravel and pavement after opening the door to retrieve him. He didn’t remember how but he ended up riding piggyback on Derek, and here they were. Stiles inhaled slowly and stored away the smell of Derek’s warm skin, the smell of detergent on his shirt, and what he figured was shampoo.

 

“I’m just saying, someone could find that thing seven miles away. You’re like a massive neon yellow banana,” Boyd replied. Derek’s hands adjusted behind Stiles’ knees and the incubus pressed closer into the wolf’s back out of instinct. He wasn’t ready to walk on his own yet, thank you. He was much more occupied with being a leech.

 

“Complain to Jackson, he donated it,” Stiles’ voice supplied from its muffled hiding place. They moved further into the loft and Stiles heard Boyd close the door behind them as Derek turned and dropped him unceremoniously onto the bed.

 

Stiles made some kind of noise that he couldn’t possibly recreate in his life and blindly flipped Derek off for the rough landing, “You’re rude too.” He rolled over to the middle of the bed while simultaneously kicking his shoes off and made a nest out of the pillows he could reach. More pillows joined him and Stiles smiled as they were tucked around his feet, eyes still glued shut as he pulled one under his head. God, was he exhausted. Usually, he could pull three-day shifts without a wink of sleep, but then again he did have his computer back then and was lacking in a constantly growing well inside him that demanded the sacrifice of someone’s soul/essence/whatever it really was.

 

The bed dipped alternatively on either side of him and he cracked his eyes just enough to see around the edge of his yellow hood to find Boyd sitting in front of him, pulling off his own shoes before the beta turned and stretched out next to him. Warm paw-like hands manhandled him a little closer and Stiles sighed in bliss as he felt more body heat lying against him, “Fuck, you guys are so going to get sick of me in the winter. This is so much better than an electric blanket.”

 

Boyd’s laugh was soft as he lifted his chin to push Stiles’ head underneath his. The bed shifted again and Derek’s arm snuck around his stomach, threading through his pocket. Stiles hooked an ankle between his calves with a little extra body wiggle to maximize contact between all three of them, “Remind me to freeze my ass off again in the near future. Boyd, you’re a way better cuddler than Scott, I’m keeping you.”

 

“You’ll have to tell that to Erica,” Boyd said into the top of his head.

 

Stiles just smiled into his chest and folded his arms up between them so he could rest his palms against Boyd’s chest, “I’m keeping her too- bed hair and all.”

 

“Where is your bracelet at anyway? Aren’t you supposed to wear that when you’re out in public?” Stiles’ tail tapped on Derek’s knee in contentment, and Boyd must have taken notice of it. Not that it was hard to miss.

 

“I kind of left it at home. Lydia will grab it though. Why don’t like it as much as your girlfriend?” He nuzzled closer to Boyd’s warmth and felt Derek accommodate for the slight change.

 

“Just figured you would be wearing it. Scott mentioned the only times he’s seen you without it is when you’re here or at the beginning before Deaton gave it to you.” Boyd’s chin rocked against the crown of his head while he spoke and Derek’s face pushed a little closer to his shoulder as they settled a little more.

 

Stiles shrugged a little bit, “To be honest I don’t like bracelets. They catch on everything, you have to take them off to cook or wash dishes or they’re too hot, too tight, or too heavy. You guys don’t stare at me like you’re terrified of me when I’m not wearing it. In fact, you guys seem to almost prefer it; Erica always looks like she wants to tackle my tail when it’s out and about. I was hoping I could have that freedom in my own house too.” He felt two sets of arms tighten around him in a gesture of comfort.

 

His phone vibrated against his thigh again and he grumbled, “Six bucks says that’s Scott.” He wriggled his arm free and slapped around his hip for the pocket while trying not to slap Derek’s elbow. Once he had it in his hand he unlocked the screen and wished he had a hard surface to beat his head against. He tapped his forehead on Boyd’s sternum instead as Derek peered over his shoulder to read the message.

 

“Does he really not know what a muffin pan looks like?”

 

“I think he’s being an ass,” Stiles answered mournfully, “But its Scott so I honestly don’t know.”

 

He could feel Boyd’s body shaking against him as he laughed silently. Stiles tapped out a quick message that made Derek’s body shift behind him.

 

_I’m going to eat you if you bring back that fucking mini Bundt pan. Don’t tempt me, I’m already hungry. –SS_

 

His phone started to ring as soon as the message was sent and Scott’s crooked grin flashed onto the screen before Stiles answered it and pushed the receiver under his head, “I mean it,” He grumbled.

 

“ _Stiles come on, don’t eat me, Kira just got home this morning!_ ” Scott’s voice whined in his ear and Stiles rolled his eyes.

 

“You’ve had like five days off, Scotty. Jackson is starting to pout about recovery leave,” Not really. Stiles hadn’t fed off of Jackson in the last few days either. Or Isaac for that matter. Really the only ones he had been focusing on are Derek and Erica. That was something he decided to store for later.

 

“ _I was kidding! Look I’ll even bring your mixing bowl and stuff. I wanna hang out with my girlfriend and not think about you indirectly kissing each other,_ ” Stiles felt a smile twist the corners of his lips.

 

“You’re still stuck on that? Have you even told her what you’ve been doing for the last two weeks?” He traced one of the weird patterns on Boyd’s blue shirt and apologized when he realized it tickled.

 

“ _Who are you talking to?_ ”

 

“You. And maybe one of the two beefcakes I’m defrosting between.”

 

Boyd snorted, “Beefcake?”

 

Stiles craned his head back enough to smile brightly at him, “Definitely a beefcake. All this muscle, and still so very soft,” He pet his hand down Boyd’s chest and pat it in appreciation, “Big ol’ cuddly teddy bears, the both of you.” Derek flexed his calves against his ankle.

 

“ _Couldn’t you feed off of one of them then? What about Isaac or Erica?_ ”

 

“Isaac was pulling your weight already. Give him a break. And I’m not compatible with Erica right now. I already had Derek- twice even. Boyd expressed he only wants to be used in emergencies.”

 

“ _Stilleeesss…_ ”

 

Stiles sighed and felt his tail tap in agitation, “Whatever, forget it. Just bring my stuff over to Derek’s.” He heard Scott say something when he pulled the phone away from his ear but hung up anyway; irritated that Scott was so reluctant. He had a right to say no, and Stiles understood that but he had hoped Scott would keep to his promise he made when this all started.

 

“You know I get him wanting to have the energy to welcome Kira home,” Boyd supplied quietly.

 

Stiles pat his chest again softly. He pressed into Boyd’s body and dropped one hand down to wrap over the back of Derek’s forearm which flexed in his grip. “Yeah, I get it too. I think this is just hunger making me irritated- that and everything that went on last night.” Derek growled quietly at the reminder and Stiles rubbed circles over his arm with his thumb.

 

“Jackson mentioned bringing Danny over. Would you be able to feed on him?”

 

Stiles’ eyebrows rose up; he remembered the last two times he had seen Danny. How he thought the goalie would be delicious, how he nearly followed through with it at the store. “Not without causing some major damage probably. If I were craving something instead of considering eating the entire fridge I’d probably try it. I’m guessing that means they told him?”

 

“Danny realized something was up,” Derek answered. “Lydia explained it to him the day you added Jackson to your menu. Too many people around him would be involved.”

 

Stiles couldn’t convince himself to be upset about it. Lydia made a good call and if anything at least Danny was another set of eyes to keep him in line when school starts again. “Good. Honestly, I was getting tired of explaining everything.”

 

~~~

 

Jackson and Danny came to the loft just as Stiles was finishing with Derek. The impending arrival of the goalie had essentially made his choice for him, and while Stiles was worried he would end up doing something terrible to Derek, the man made a point when he said he could end up killing someone else otherwise. Plus, another unfocused look at Derek’s aura confirmed that he had more than enough. Stiles was starting to think it had something to do with being an alpha, or maybe a born werewolf or something.

 

He was sitting on the other’s lap, his fingers laced behind Derek’s neck, elbows rested comfortably over his shoulders. There were hands on him, and he was certain he was purring when Jackson walked in casually, towing one perturbed Danny behind him, “Stilinski, if you make me get up at 5 am, again I’m going to throttle your ass.” Derek had Stiles held close by his hip and his knee, hands sweeping up his leg and side every now and then. A stray thumb would wander off occasionally and Stiles had a hard time focusing on the two extra people in the room for the way it liked to skim the inside of his thigh or how it’s twin liked to tickle against the sensitive sections of his side.

 

“Is he wearing your clothes?”

 

“I got new ones. No one needs to see Stilinski lounging around in his underwear, and personally, I’ve already seen enough of his ass in the locker room.”

 

A gasp escaped him when Derek tightened his fingers on his thigh and glimpses of his essence could be seen between their mouths as he exhaled pale gold. Derek just renewed his efforts, licking into his mouth and making Stiles sag against him. His tail writhed around one of Derek’s ankles and he chased after it with one hand, reaching behind himself and forcefully untangling the limb. Derek’s resulting growl had him curling his hand back into the thick hair at the side of his head before he unwillingly convinced him to stop with a soft tug. He loved the sound of the growls Derek released when they were like this, loved being able to feel it rattle through his limbs and his ribcage.

 

Boyd was braced against a kitchen counter, texting with a steaming pot boiling near his elbow, “Isaac said he’d get the Jeep,” He announced, “Erica is going to meet up with him once her family is done with her.”

 

Stiles hooked a thumbs-up toward Boyd and finally, painstakingly broke the kiss he was sharing with Derek. He wanted to keep going, trading gold and red to see how much they could share, to keep feeling Derek’s warmth pulsing against him and wrapping around his insides. Supernaturally colored eyes blinked open as they panted and Stiles smirked in victory, “You’re supposed to keep those hidden, big guy. How am I supposed to kiss you guys in public if you keep going all wolf-eyed?” He ruffled up Derek’s hair but pecked him one last time and extracted himself from his grip, tail swaying to help him keep his balance while he backed off of Derek’s lap. “I’ll still make breakfast for dinner, but we might have to work on that a little more. You’re fine when I’m taking, but when I give it back you look like you’re ready to scare some kids on Halloween.”

 

“Lydia told me you were an Incubus but I didn’t believe her at first. You? A creature known for terrorizing all of Europe with nightmares and sex? The whole time I’ve known you, you’ve barely had any game, and god forbid if you tried to be sexy.” Danny finally spoke up as he looked between them. He made a pretty solid argument, honestly; Stiles was anything but smooth and he had kissed maybe all of five people in high school.

 

Stiles swiveled around and took a moment to assess Danny while he was within reach of a wolf that could stop him if he was overwhelmed. Thankfully snacking on Derek had lessened the hunger enough that he didn’t want to climb Danny, but he certainly did still feel a desire to… flirt? He wasn’t sure exactly. “And now?” He asked, sliding off of the bed where Derek stretched out after running his eyes over him. Stiles looked over his shoulder and watched him wad up one of the pillows to shove under his head.

 

Jackson fell onto the blue couch and Stiles’ attention turned to him, tongue wetting his lips as he examined his next perceived prey. Danny sat with a little more finesse on the end of the other couch adjacent to Jackson and raised his shoulders up into his ears. “Well, you certainly look different, but an Incubus?” He eyed Stiles and measured him up, “As far as I know, you could just be dating Derek. There are probably hundreds of creatures that have tails, and that weird glitter cloud thing you did just looks like magic.”

 

“Monogamous relationships aren’t an option for me anymore, judging by the bestiaries I’ve looked through there are forty-five other human-like variants that have tails, and technically I guess you could say it is magic.” Stiles listed easily as he circled around Jackson who resisted the urge to reach out and tug on Stiles’ tail, knowing how it irritated the other. Something about Stiles’ newly acquired features told him he _should_ be afraid of him when he was pissed off. Stiles reached out and plucked a long strawberry blonde strand from the front of Jackson’s shirt, “You need to do anything in the next couple of hours?”

 

Jackson looked at the phone in his hand with a put-upon expression and locked the screen with a sigh, “Just something with Lydia later.” He shoved his phone into his pocket just as Stiles sat down beside him, “Leave me with enough to stay awake. You don’t have the luxury of a second bed here and I’m not sleeping on the couch. Erica nearly flattened me last time.”

 

“Wait, Jackson too?” Stiles turned his head toward Danny and wagged his brows. The resulting look was disbelieving, “You guys are pulling some kind of prank.” Boy did Stiles want to prove him wrong. His lips curled and he preened at the opportunity to prove something to the Hawaiian boy after years of being shot down for his ‘silly questions’ in their shared classes.

 

“Sorry Danny boy,” Stiles twisted his fingers into the front of Jackson’s shirt and pulled him in close. Blue eyes flashed at him dangerously in warning as Jackson adjusted his hips on the seat, “I have some new things to teach your best friend here. You can learn them too if you like, but I’ll have to do a little more work and feeding here before it’s safe to integrate you.” Jackson growled at him, low and bold but Stiles just smiled and rose to the challenging tone. They met in a way that had Stiles falling back with Jackson’s shirt fisted into his hands, kissing viciously as the wolf tried to put him in place. It was reminiscent of how they fought against each other on the field; except there was reassurance between them that if it was too much for the other they could tap out.

 

“You know what- sign me up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to resist posting this for a few days just so I could actually say I did post a new chapter on Thursday, lol. I hope it didn't hop around too much for you all, and that you enjoyed it! We'll have something a little more interesting next chapter for you all, I hope! Have a wonderful week! (:


	7. The Itch & Getting It Scratched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be smut! I’ve marked it off with a different divider pattern (-=V=-) if you desire to read or ignore it. There isn’t really any important content inside the smut other than itself, so you won’t miss any plot if you decide to skip it! All future sexual encounters will have the above-mentioned divider above and below in case you want to skip the future interactions too.
> 
> To be honest, I've never posted any smut before. I hope that it is readable at least, and if not, well, I'll find some way to improve upon it in the future!
> 
> Happy readings~

Stiles was not moping on the couch. He did not have his feet kicked over the back of it, and his head hanging off the front so that the world was upside down. He certainly wasn’t playing a boring game of Tetris on his phone either; no he definitely wasn’t _moping_. His dad didn’t call earlier and try to convince him to at least consider the exorcism, sounding tired, hopeful, and – No, Stiles wasn’t going to think about it.

 

Stiles had been sitting in the loft going on day three. Scott and Lydia dropped off his things for him, and the banshee gave him an ear full for running off and avoiding everyone. He accepted it like a champ and promised that he would try to make it up to her somehow. Scott had shifted anxiously nearby until Stiles gave him a good long stare, and finally, the other teen admitted that he was being selfish. They had a talk about keeping certain promises and after being chastised, Scott agreed that he would take up his role again, and like the good bros they were, they hugged it out. Stiles also gave him the night off since his lady friend was going to be home after spending all of spring break out of the country with her mother.

 

Kira later messaged him about being kept out of the loop, and against Scott’s best protests she offered her services if he were ever in a pinch. He knew he loved that girl for a reason and had told her as much in a sappy sounding text message. And now, he was here. Sprawled upside down on the couch with nothing to preoccupy himself with other than an agonizingly slow game of Tetris. He groaned and let his phone drop onto the area rug as he rubbed his face. Tetris blocks piled up on the carpet and an alarm buzzed out on his phone telling him he had lost the game.

 

Three long days of slowly rearranging the furniture in the loft had gone by. Three days of Stiles getting visits from various pack members for a good snack, snuggle and actual meal between them. Three days of unpacking, repacking and unpacking the drawers that Derek gave him to put his clothes in. With each day he perfected one little thing for himself, and each day while he settled he fucking unsettled because it was driving him insane.

 

What was it, exactly? It was the way his body was reacting every day. The way he would wake up practically draped over Derek and Isaac in the morning feeling like there was just one small thing out of place. The need to just put that last piece into place to make it feel like home. To stop the armies of fire ants that were crawling through his skin.

 

What made it even more irritating was the way his whole body felt like it was itching when he wasn’t touching someone. After the first attempt to trace it down with both hands scratching furiously at his body he realized he would be unable to cure it with a well-placed fingernail or pointy doorframe corner. He swore it was worse than the one time he and Scott had rolled through a pile of leaves when they were kids and had been gifted a beautiful rash each from a stray strain of poison oak. His whole body burned in a way that he couldn’t quite describe and _oh my god_ it itched if he focused on it! A boiling shower didn’t even lessen it. If anything it made it _worse_.

 

He had to force himself to stop scratching and instead stripped off his hoodie urgently in the hopes of cooling down and maybe, just maybe, relieving some of the itch. He was not successful on the second front, but thankfully the loft stayed pretty cool most days so a burst of crisp air over his near-feverish skin was a complete and total blessing worthy of the low groan he released. It was something at least, right? So he flopped back into his position and made to reach for his phone, which pinged at him.

 

_Are you experiencing any unpleasant effects? - AD_

 

~~~

 

When the most innocent touch to his shoulder from Isaac yanked a startled, throaty sound from him, he decided that he needed to do something more than just pace around the loft and cook.

 

He read the journal again and found a few more facts in it that he didn’t particularly care to know, some facts that were handy, and more ravings of what he was considering to be a psycho. The man experimented on the creatures he was supposed to kill; of course, he was a psycho. But even the journal proved to be useless to help him pin down this problem he was having right now. You know, the one where it felt like someone had poured spider hair on him and a few live bugs as the cherry on top, then set him loose on the hottest day of summer- perpetually.

 

The sensation had been building ever since the first night he spent crowded by sleeping werewolves on the floor and judging by the occasional message he shared with Deaton the vet knew what was going on too. He wanted to demand a clear and straight answer from the consistently cryptic druid but all Deaton would say is: _You need to accept your nature._

 

Yeah, what good that would do for him. Wasn’t he already doing all of that? Stiles thought he was adapting pretty well to being a sex demon, all things considered. He knew that there was one aspect he was avoiding but hadn’t Deaton told him he wouldn’t have to do anything about that for a few months? He slapped his phone down on the table and moved from the metal chair back over to Derek’s empty bed. Stiles flopped onto it with a huff and pulled one of the pillows to ball up under his head and chest.

 

The warm tingle of sunlight pouring through the panes to his left eased some of the itch and he closed his eyes as he found some sort of comfort. When he woke up a little while later with his nose pressed into the pillow and long chittery purrs rolling from his chest, he came to realize something that set off giant red warning signals in his head. He groaned and shoved his face further into the pillow before he reared back from it and scrambled off the now rumpled bedding with a twisted expression caught somewhere between ‘oh no’, ‘what the fuck’ and ‘I’m an idiot’.

 

He carelessly snatched his phone off of the desk and picked up his discarded hoodie as he moved to the door in wide strides. Maybe if he just stepped outside for a few hours he could reverse the effects of essentially turning Derek’s loft into his _nest_. He sent a message to Derek that he was stepping outside for a few minutes, shoved his phone into his pocket and closed the door behind him. Maybe with a little more force than necessary.

 

Stiles ended up walking around the building a few times hoping to burn off some energy. When that didn’t help, he ran the stairs; up, down, up, down, up, down- backward and forward until his legs ached, his lungs burned and his face turned red. He was thankful that Derek didn’t let anyone else live in the building because he was full on stalking the old factory grounds. What would the neighbors think if there were any? _‘Oh, there goes Stiles with his tail out again, the poor lad doesn’t have any shoes on either, something must be on his mind!’_

 

When that didn’t help he turned his focus to his Jeep. Both doors and the hatch were opened as far as they would go- one door further than the other after all of the abuse the poor vehicle had suffered through. He shook out the floor mats and found a few coins and a disgusting, rock hard salt packet that had probably been there since ‘nam hidden under them. A forgotten, wadded up grocery bag turned into his trash bin and he swept up the loose bits of trash into it. Receipts, straw wrappers, a scrunched up assignment that had found its way under the back seat, and an old t-shirt that had seen better days all found their new home in the blazing-yellow plastic. He mourned the loss of three beautiful curly fries when he found them petrified in the back floorboard.

 

He contemplated wiping down the windows and dash for all of two seconds before he was bolting back up to the loft to get proper supplies, only to hesitate in the doorway when he saw Derek sitting at the desk, cast in a halo of warm light. It made his stomach flip and his tongue flick out like he wanted to taste the air. Derek looked up from his reading with his eyebrows pulled together and opened his mouth like he wanted to ask Stiles something. The Incubus just strode to the kitchen sink, pulled out whatever he could find before he clutched his supplies tighter against his stomach and trotted back out with a call of, “Cabin Fever,” over his shoulder.

 

It wasn’t exactly cabin fever- in fact, it was the complete opposite! He was enjoying his time inside too much, but what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey, sorry but I turned your place into my nest without realizing it. I’m going crazy because my whole ‘harem’ is out and about and oh, I need to sex somebody up _right now_ or I’ll probably pounce on someone without warning _._ ’ Yeah, that would go over well.

 

_What are you doing? –DH_

He deposited the supplies into the driver’s seat and let his thumbnail replace his lip as he leaned against the Jeep and considered how he should answer. Derek wouldn’t be able to hear a lie in a text right? He felt like he could imagine Derek’s growl of disapproval if he saw a lie and felt his tail wrap tightly around his knee, squirming like it appreciated the sound. Despite that thought, he cautiously tapped a message, deleted it and tried again with a little more vagueness thrown in.

 

_What if, hypothetically speaking, I accidentally triggered some instincts that are pretty inconvenient? - SS_

 

He sat his phone on the center console and picked up the window cleaner to mist the driver side window. He heard his phone ping at him again but resisted the urge to read the message until he had the window wiped down and streak free. The device pinged again before he could get to it, and he quickly read over the messages.

 

_What if you told me what was going on. – DH_

_Stiles put the cleaner down. – DH_

_Flip ahead to chapter eight in that book of yours. – SS_

 

Stiles studiously ignored Derek’s order to stop cleaning and turned his attention to the other door. Each window was cleaned thoroughly; door pockets emptied, stray bits of werewolf equipment was tucked away into the plastic tote in the back of his Jeep. His phone stayed silent, and Stiles hoped that just meant Derek was doing what he said. He emptied condiment packets and plastic silverware out of his glove box, found a dried out bottle of hand sanitizer that had been crushed under his owner’s manual, and once again collected a few rampant coins. One was so coated in blue-green patina he could barely make out either side of the coin. It made his fingers itch to touch it.

 

By the time he organized the plastic tote itself and considered restringing his lacrosse stick, his phone buzzed at him. Over and over again with a phone call that he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. He picked it up anyway and pressed it to his ear, “ _You’re nesting._ ”

 

His eyes closed and he turned around to sit in the hatch of his car, “Yep. Like a fucking cat in heat.” He tried for light and humored but it came out a lot like self-loathing.

 

They stayed silent on the line and Stiles almost considered hanging up if it weren’t for the long breath he heard on the other end, “ _Your scent has been changing over the last few days._ ” Stiles pushed his hand through his hair and scratched around the nape of his neck.

 

“Somehow I’m not surprised,” Stiles murmured. He clenched his fingers around the back of his neck and looked out over the parking lot, “My body is trying to tell nearby people that I’m rutting or something- I don’t know what to call it. Deaton said it’s like withdrawal, but I shouldn’t be experiencing it for a few more weeks at minimum. But then you let me move around the furniture and cook for everyone and you let them come to the loft to deal with my needs. Look- I honestly had no idea what I was doing, I just know that it feels like I want to peel my skin off if I think too hard on how nice your loft is after all of the little changes I’ve made… Isaac touched me when I gave him an omelet for breakfast and I thought I was going to drag him to the floor.”

 

“ _You should have said something instead of running around, Stiles. You could have blacked out again._ ” Stiles rolled his eyes. He knew that tone, the ‘why are you like this’ tone, he used it on Derek pretty frequently.

 

“Yeah, hey Derek, there are a million bugs crawling all over me, I can’t find a place cold enough in the loft for me to wear clothes, I’ve probably rubbed all of the sharp corners of your place smooth because my skin fucking itches for relief, oh and your beta touched my arm so I almost tackled him to the floor to demand sex because I felt this rush of lust. How would you have reacted, do you think?” Stiles closed his mouth with a click and realized he was squeezing his phone so tightly that his fingers ached.

 

The answer came after a breath of pause, “ _We would have figured out how to help you._ ” Derek growled, and oh, _oh no_ that did things to him.

 

Stiles swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and shifted in his seat uncomfortably, “Dude, growling is totally _not_ helping me right now. So not helping,” He sounded a little breathless even to himself. His fingers gripped the collar of his hoodie and he tried to fan some cool air against his collarbones once he had the cellphone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear. “You just ruined any effort I just put into ignoring this for the last like eighty-seven minutes.”

 

“If you want to help, I need to solidify my nest or maybe move it somewhere else,” He licked his lips, “And as great as you’ve been to let me crash at the loft, I don’t think you want it to turn into my personal feeding grounds. For one, that’s your bed, and for another, there’s absolutely no privacy.” Not that Stiles was shy, but even if Derek allowed it and Stiles brought someone, they would probably feel pretty self-conscious about the wide open floor plan and the front door that never seemed to be locked.

 

His ear was filled with the long drawling dial-tone that told him Derek had hung up, and before he could dredge up the emotion to feel hurt about it, the wolf was rounding the back of his Jeep, eyes locked onto him. His heart stumbled over itself in its uptick and whether or not it should stop or pound even faster. He shoved his phone quickly into his pocket and only missed it twice, “What’s up, big guy?”

 

Derek was in his space almost immediately, his bare feet framed on either side by Derek’s equally naked ones, and he was caging Stiles in with his hands against the floor of the Jeep, making Stiles lean back just as much. His hand scrambled to press back against the scratchy carpet behind him and he swallowed; body tense as he tried to figure out what was going through Derek’s head. He stared into wide hazel-green eyes and tried not to look away, or close the gap between them. “Hey, ar-”

 

“Shut up.” Stiles did. He closed his mouth with a click and breathed through his nose, which really he should know better by now, because the smell of Derek ingrained into his pillow was nothing compared to having the alpha right in front of him, looming over him and not touching him. God, did he want him to touch him.

 

They stayed like that for so long that Stiles’ wrist began to hurt and Derek’s scent painted the walls of his lungs to the point that he could barely register the scent of anything else around them. He started a quiet purr in his chest as everything about the dark-haired wolf wrapped around him the longer they stayed like that. Derek didn’t snap for him to shut up again, so he let it continue, eyelids drooping slowly as his attention shifted from Derek’s intense stare to the way his mouth was slightly parted, letting out controlled breaths. He saw him speak before the words registered like he had been put into some kind of trance, “What?” He asked.

 

“I told you to come to me if you needed anything,” The underlying growl made his tail whip between his knees anxiously.

 

“If I was hurt,” Stiles clarified on a breath.

 

Derek pressed further into his space and Stiles felt the back seat touch his shoulders as Derek flashed his eyes at him, “You’re suffering, that counts. And I think you understand what I said, Stiles. _Anything_. Not just if you’re hurt.”

 

Stiles clenched his fingers behind himself and closed his eyes to try and keep the bit of control he still had. “I don’t want to just use you, Derek. I don’t want to be that person.” It was the same weak argument he had used after Erica scratched him, and even though he still didn’t want to just use Derek, he knew that Derek would encourage him to do it anyway.

 

“You’re not using me if I’m telling you to do it. I told you that if I thought it was too much I would tell you no.” Derek’s nose grazed his and Stiles whimpered softly, “I’m not telling you no, am I, Stiles?” His voice was deep and warm in a way Stiles hadn’t heard before and it pulled his subconscious into action.

 

Their lips touched and Stiles swore he could feel it in his fingertips, down to his toes, the tip of his tail. Like a loud boom from one of those massive taiko drums had gone off in his body, deafening and exhilarating. He moaned quietly and caught Derek’s arms in his hands, holding tight enough he thought he might leave bruises if it weren’t for werewolf healing. Derek was pulling him in against his body, shuffling them so he could slide one arm under Stiles’ ass and hoist him out of his little perch.

 

His legs tangled around Derek’s waist instantly, locked around him like they were dangling over a ravine. He was high over Derek’s head as they move out from under the roof of the Jeep and he just barely managed to slam the door closed as Derek’s stubble scraped into the gap of space between his neck and hood. Stiles groaned and wrapped his arms behind Derek’s head so he didn’t topple over as another heavy thrum beat through his body. Fuck closing the other doors; they could jumpstart the battery with Derek’s Camaro if Stiles ever left the building again.

 

Derek had them up the stairs faster than Stiles would have thought possible; all while leaving a necklace of red marks across his neck, alternating between bites and kissing and rubbing his chin against his throat. All Stiles could do was hold on and bare his neck as much as he could while the wolf marked and claimed. And they both knew that was what Derek was doing. Neither of them mentioned it and neither of them cared, not right now at least.

 

The door was almost deafening when it was pushed closed, but Stiles finally had enough sense to tug Derek’s head back and kiss him properly. And by properly, he meant he was shoving his tongue against Derek’s and nipping it when Derek pushed back. He tasted like coffee and heat and Stiles clung to it like it was a lifeline, purring and rumbling the whole time as Derek’s hands flexed under his thighs. “I’m gonna make you howl,” He whispered against Derek’s mouth, smirking when he was answered with a low growl.

 

-=v=-

 

When he pushed Derek down onto the bed, the wolf went compliantly and they stared at one another with kiss-swollen lips and hands wandering. Stiles had enough sense in him to shove his phone under one of the pillows before he drug his hoodie off and threw it somewhere toward the end of Derek’s bed. The man was urging his shirt up over his stomach and Stiles ignored the warm paws on his muscles in favor of pushing Derek’s up into his armpits.

 

His mouth is on Derek’s skin before he can think better of it, kissing, licking, and sucking over tan warmth. When he bit the curve of one peck Derek finally sighed, almost like Stiles just gave him permission to breathe. He licked the small red ring of his imprints to soothe them and looked up to find Derek watching him already, pupils wide and mouth open. That’s when Derek decided Stiles’ shirt should be gone and with little effort, the fabric ripped under his skilled claws. Stiles almost rolled his eyes at Derek’s smug satisfaction when the wolf dropped the pile of scrap cotton off the edge of the bed.

 

Stiles bit him again in reprimand, but the message doesn’t go as intended judging by the small groan he was gifted. Broad hands pet up his spine and made him choke on his purr as he arched up into them, eyes fluttering as ripples surge through his skin. It felt less like a drum and more like disturbed water, lapping at his nerves and ringing under his skin. His tail whipped across Derek’s thighs in response, and the alpha had the nerve to laugh at him.

 

“I’m so taking one of your shirts,” He sat back on Derek’s legs and let his fingernails score marks over his stomach; white, dark pink, and then tan again. The pads of his fingertips traced the edge of Derek’s pants, a pair of dark washed blue jeans that hugged him in all of the right ways. Stiles liked them a lot; he ran his palm over them slowly, down one pocket, across the visible bulge that surged under his touch and over to the other pocket. Derek’s breath stuttered beneath him.

 

“You already wear my clothes,” Derek’s hands gripped tight around his thighs, having slipped under the shiny material of his shorts. He popped the top button of the closure like he was going to relieve Derek of the pressure and then tucked his fingers around to his back pockets and liberated him of his phone to join his own at the head of the bed. He made sure to grip both sides of Derek’s ass before he extracted the mobile, humming at how firm each cheek was.

 

Derek growled and pulled him down for another searing kiss when he was leaning over him. His skin ached where Derek touched him and Stiles had to brace a hand on his chest to keep his balance. The brunette pushed his tattooed bed-mate back down when he tried to follow him up, “Nope, you stay.” Red irises glinted at him for the order, and golden rings narrowed playfully right back.

 

His hands returned to Derek’s jeans, palms gliding over denim until Derek rolled his hips into him. Only then did he pull the zipper down and wiggle the fabric away, Derek’s boxer briefs sliding with it. Derek took advantage of his distraction and used his hands around the backs of his knees to pull him forward. He dragged him further up his body before the world spun around them. Stiles landed with a quiet ‘oof’ and his arms over his head, with Derek mapping out the dark moles on his skin with his tongue and teeth. Stiles’ breath stuttered, body rising to the warm, wet touch as whimpers were pulled from his lungs when teeth clamped over sensitive skin.

 

“Wasn’t done,” Stiles huffed, only to groan low as Derek rubbed his chin against the center of his chest. Fingers hooked into the shorts on Stiles’ waist and tugged until Derek’s legs were in the way. He rocked to one side and dropped his hands down to help, pushing the slick fabric out of the way on one leg and then kicking it off of the other.

 

There was a short moment where he sat up enough to help Derek shuck off his jeans and boxers, lips pressing against his collarbones as the wolf whipped his shirt off. His hands burned paths up Derek’s spine, soft wet sounds filling the room as he pressed wet lips against his skin. Derek’s fingers tangled into his hair, wrenching his head back so he could claim his mouth again, and Stiles moaned into it, dragging him back down on top of him. The bed groaned in protest against the sudden movement, buckling and tossing them back up.

 

When they stretched out against each other Stiles had hooked one leg over Derek’s waist and twisted them to take some of the pressure off of his tail. Their mouths melded against one another, and Stiles couldn’t stop sweeping his hands over Derek’s back, feeling the ridges of his tattoo, the soft hills of firm muscle, the dips of his shoulder blades and the curve low on his spine. They held each other close, barely enough room to find that friction they both craved, and Stiles let red and gold twist between them in an intoxicating cloud. He gave and take; feeling their essences spark together and ignite between their lips like a rich flambé.

 

Derek smoothed his hand down Stiles’ side and over his hip urgently. He gripped his ass, kneaded it for a few pulses and then moved to pull Stiles’ leg even further up around him. The incubus didn’t protest in the slightest, encouraged the touch with a pleased gasp and blunt nails scraping over his skin. Everything faded into a haze around him, highlighted and left glowing by the bright windows facing him as Derek worked him open, face shoved into the hollow of his throat with growls shaking both of them apart.

 

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek ground out, arching against him so that he rubbed into the crease of his thigh. Stiles hummed a sound in response, fingers tangled against Derek’s skin, grazing the soft hair at the dip below his skull. “You’re slick-” Another grumble interrupted him and Stiles was sure he wanted to say so much more.

 

“Y-yeah,” He whimpered and pinched his eyes shut further as warmth spread through the ripples still spiking through him, “I kind of noticed. I found out when I took a shower the other day,” His fingers twitched sharply when Derek’s fingers found a new angle that made him want to weep. “ _Oh god_.”

 

Stiles was sure that Derek was saying something, but all he heard was the mental chant of ‘ _want, need, yes, yes, yes_ ,’ and the various noises he was making above Derek’s head. He would have to ask what the man said later when he could actually piece together whole sentences again. For now, he focused on the loss of fingers and the press of something warm and blunt against him.

 

He clutched against Derek’s nape and the back of his shoulder as they came to a stop; Derek pressed into him and his stomach flipping almost violently. Hot puffs of breath poured down his chest, explosive and ragged. Stiles turned his nose down into the thick hair that had been under his chin and felt the air burn his lungs as he breathed in the smell of Derek and arousal. His leg flexed against the alpha wolf’s ribcage and he heard Derek’s moan join his own as he clenched around him, “ _Stiles_ ,” His name was so soft and airy he just barely caught it through the rush in his ears.

 

“Okay?” He murmured back, loosening his fingers enough to brush over Derek’s dewy neck. Weren’t necks supposed to be something special to wolves? He swept his palm down between Derek’s shoulders and back up into the short hairs at the base of his skull repeatedly until Derek nodded. He pulled Derek’s head back and kissed him with a softness that he didn’t expect to have when his body was _screaming_ at him to move.

 

When they experimented with a slow thrust Stiles felt an ache, low and dull and enticing. His fingers swirled against Derek’s scalp to encourage him and Derek wrapped his hand around his knee, grounding and reassuring. Their breath mingled, foreheads touched together as they shared the corner of an errant pillow, “Derek,” He purred the name and looked at him; golden haloes reflected in hooded, brilliant red irises, “Derek, _move_.”

 

It felt like he was going to fly apart at the seams when he was answered with a low, powerful growl. His body was folded further as Derek pushed him back against the bed, hooking his elbow beneath his knee. Stiles’ head fell back against the sheets as he moaned, Derek shifting inside of him just enough to drag friction over that one single spot that shot stars into his vision. His tail arced over the rumpled covers and hit the side of Derek’s shin, over and over again. It had to have hurt but Derek took it in stride, curled his toes underneath him enough to let Stiles’ tail slide under his leg so he could pin it in place.

 

They held onto each other with white-knuckled grips as they moved to meet each other. Long, agonizing thrusts turned short and urgent, sharp and seeking. His heels dug into Derek’s back and he had to let go with his hands to ground himself to the headboard. Derek was there, kissing his jaw and pressing his teeth into his skin, growling low as they rolled their bodies like the ebb and flow of a torrential storm on the ocean. Stiles didn’t even know what kind of sounds he was making, just that he begged Derek for more, that he was breathless and keening.

 

Derek’s sharp teeth clamped around his neck and Stiles gasped as it brought his own fangs out, bitter-sharp venom dripped from his teeth and he cursed that he couldn’t get them to go away. His fingers tightened on the board when Derek bit just a little harder, not enough to break the skin but Stiles felt positive he would have bruises there for days. When Derek’s hand slipped around him he cried out and tried to squirm away. He was so sensitive, and he hadn’t realized it because he was so hyper-focused on Derek. Derek who had his calloused, hot hand around him, pumping in time to his own thrusts.

 

His vision went grey around the edges as his climax built until another sharp sound escaped him, body tensing and muscles burning as he came undone underneath the wolf. He moaned Derek’s name and scrambled to keep his hold on the headboard, tail coiling tightly around Derek’s calf as best it could. It felt like his heart was going to break through his ribcage like his head was going to split open as the sea rushed through his ears.

 

Derek came shortly after him, panting against the curve of his shoulder as his teeth finally released him. His body twitched with short staccato thrusts and Stiles’ legs tangled further around him. He had to pry his aching fingers away from the padded board pushed against the top of his head before he could loop his arms over Derek’s shoulders and pull him down. He was crushed under his weight but it felt divine, holding Derek close as their highs mellowed.

 

Once he could hear the gritty hum of the fridge again, and see the dust motes caught in the sunbeams from the window he loosened his hold but didn’t let go, “That, was delicious,” Stiles hummed. He started to pet his fingers over Derek’s back and loosely followed the raised lines of his tattoo, in one curl, out to the other, back to the center, over and over again. Derek’s muscles twitched under his touch and Stiles closed his eyes as they basked in the sun, sweat glistening and drying in the heat.

 

“You know,” He started, hand stilling on Derek’s skin. The wolf hummed in response to show he was listening, face pressed into his neck, “Isaac isn’t going to want to sleep here now,” He mused.

 

Derek slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked down at him. His eyes were still red, but Stiles knew that they would fade soon enough, “Isaac has a bed upstairs.” Stiles’ eyebrows popped up at the news. Honestly, he hadn’t gone upstairs, despite having been there for a few days now.

 

“Good,” He stretched up and pressed one last kiss against Derek’s chin, “He’s going to need it.” Derek’s lips curved pleasantly and Stiles mirrored it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to go ahead and post this today considering Hurricane Florence is knocking on our door and I've no idea how it is going to affect my area. Hope you don't mind the day early post! Be safe out there everyone.


	8. Pack & Laundry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to mention that some of the information about school-based sports and their connection to physical education likely aren’t widespread/used at all. I don’t particularly have any experience with sports like cross country, lacrosse, basketball, etc. so all of my knowledge is stemming from what I can cross over with marching band and how it affects band class. Hope you guys don’t mind it too much! I’ll accept that I was wrong but I likely won’t change it if only to keep some plot to the story. (:
> 
> Read on if you so please~

Stiles felt like everything was buzzing; his skin, the voices of everyone around him, the cacophony of auras that made him feel sick if he stared for too long. He drummed the end of his pen against his knee almost viciously with an insane and near-painful intensity as he sat in second period. The teacher droned on about what they would be learning over the year then passed out a paper detailing what they would need for supplies. He could just barely focus long enough to hastily slip a piece from the stack and pass it over his shoulder, tongue flicking out over his lips anxiously. Whoever was seated behind him touched his fingers when they took the stack and he reeled back from the touch almost immediately, hoping it passed more as shock than disgust. Not that he was disgusted, but even after the noontime fling he had with Derek a few days prior he still felt touch almost too intimately.

 

When they were released to chat with their peers throughout the room Stiles just crossed his arms and buried his head into the sleeves of the jacket he bought from the mall, inhaling deeply to try and anchor himself. He didn’t have any of the pack in this class, and he suspected that was one of the reasons why he was so sensitive to everything. There wasn’t something familiar to hone in on, there wasn’t someone who could reach over and soothe the static that kept growing under his skin. He inhaled deeply and nudged his face further into the thick sleeves of the denim jacket. It smelt like fresh laundry and the faded wash of Jackson’s cologne- Stiles figured that it had somehow managed to mingle in his mall clothes when he ran everything through the wash at the Laundromat downtown. No matter how many times he washed the clothes it would likely take weeks to push the cologne out of the fibers.

 

But it also smelled like the pack in a weird way. He used that to focus himself, let the buzzing of everyone’s chatter drown out until he could pick out each werewolf, the banshee, the kitsune, the human. His shoulders loosened as colors faded into one another, deep dark forest green Lydia, brilliant lime green Jackson, cool mint Isaac, warm red-orange Scott, vivid dark magenta Erica, the comforting bold purple of Boyd. Kira’s color was still new to him, but it felt like sunshine, golden yellow and warm. Danny’s spark of bright blue was pretty new as well, considering he just recently joined their folds. The one that helped settle him the most was, unsurprisingly, Derek’s red; cool and strong and steady.

 

The bell chimed over the intercom system and he lifted his head to blink blearily at the students pouring out of the room. Did he fall asleep? He folded his list of supplies and shoved it into a jean pocket as he stood, sweeping his textbook off of his desk and nearly dropping it. The teacher gave him a curious look and he waved at them with a lopsided, Stiles-like grin. Hopefully, they wouldn’t think he planned on sleeping through all of their classes. He planned on graduating with high marks, even hoped he would be lucky enough to flank Lydia on the stage at the end of the year. Not that his teachers would know that, but a guy could hope and he was deceptively smart, right?

 

When he stepped into the hallway two warm bodies sagged into his sides, and arms snaked around his neck and lower back. It sent ripples throughout him, alternating between comforting and running chills over the back of his neck and down his arms. He swallowed the feelings down and tried to, instead, focus on the familiar weight of the both of them. A smile cracked his face as he looked between their profiles, “Missed me that much? It’s only been an hour.”

 

Erica rolled her eyes and let her head rest on his shoulder as they walked to their lockers; all of which had somehow- miraculously- ended up on the same hallway, nearly in the same segment between two classroom doors. He had a suspicion that there was some tampering that allowed for that to happen, but he wasn’t about to point any fingers toward a redheaded banshee or a hottie Hawaiian for their scheming. He appreciated having everyone nearby, why would he argue about that? He couldn’t even be upset at Jackson’s presence just across the hall from his own locker.

 

“Boyd said you were distressed,” Erica replied, “But then you were super chill, so we had to check up on you.” Her hand squeezed at his hip, dangerously low but Erica had no boundaries when it came to touching someone. Hell, none of the werewolves seemed to have any boundaries about touching someone- unless they were outside of the pack.

 

Stiles felt his smile widen before he slung an arm around Erica in return and squeezed her tightly into his side, “Best superhero partner in crime, ever.” She scoffed at him and pushed him away, sending him further into Scott’s side. He knew she liked it when he squeezed her though.

 

Scott pouted on his left, “I checked up on you too,” He muttered.

 

Stiles sighed and pulled Scott into his side much like he had done Erica. “You’re a big golden retriever puppy when affection is involved.” But they both smiled and they all separated from one another once their lockers were near. Stiles twisted his combination with ease and the lock popped open, letting him throw his newly acquired textbook into the metal bottom, “So what’s next? Electives? PE?” He looked around at the other eight people loitering around the lockers, “I have AP Lit. somehow. How long do you think it will take before the teacher throws me into Art III?” Various chuckles reached his ears.

 

“I have AP Lit. too, want to be my study buddy and projects partner?” Danny’s head popped out from behind Stiles’ locker door and the incubus raised both of his eyebrows in shock.

 

“You do realize you’re talking to the guy who wrote inappropriate papers in all of the other classes he’s had, right?” He pointed at himself and then tapped his hands against his chest to make sure Danny knew what he was asking for, “Me. You seriously want me to be your default partner for that class?”

 

Danny furrowed his brows for a moment, apparently reconsidering before he shook his head, “You research into everything with crazy speed and I’ll keep you on topic. We get our assignments done on time, I don’t get paired with Greenburg, you don’t do work for two when you scare off your partner, and you get snack time halfway through our sessions.”

 

“All reasonable points,” Stiles admitted.

 

Stiles snapped his fingers as he remembered something before he fished into one of his many jacket pockets, “Speaking of snack time,” He pulled a black necklace out of his pocket with a small glass-looking bead hanging from a bronze bail. Danny took it with a raised eyebrow, “That’s about as innocuous as I can make it. It’s a one-time use thing but it’s like a rechargeable battery. Basically, it hurts me if I start to take too much from you and put your life in danger. I’ll give you some of the replacement beads when we’re released after school.”

 

Danny twisted it between his fingers and examined the honey-colored bauble while Stiles closed his locker, notebook in hand and ridiculously colored pen between his lips, “Cool, I guess? So I just wear this and no dementor’s kiss?”

 

Stiles snorted and his eyes crinkled at the reference before spitting out his pen, “Pretty much yeah. You’ll know if it’s a dud when it turns blue, just pop it off of the bit of bronze there and snap the next one on. I’ll redo the old ones when you get low. It works as long as you’re holding it, so do me a favor and don’t carry all of them at once. They hurt me, remember? I’d like to keep my body intact and not fear feeding off of everybody because of one incident that nearly turns me inside out or rips my body apart.”

 

He watched Danny loosen up the cord so he could bring it down over his head and helped him cinch it back into place again when he struggled with it. A couple of people whispered as they passed him and Danny, wondering if they suddenly became a package deal. “Yeah sure,” Danny’s face morphed into an easy smile and Stiles pat his shoulder warmly. “Seems like a pretty easy fix for your whole problem.”

 

“Looks good on you. You and Lydia match,” He grinned and they turned to see the redhead rolling her own honey-gold pendant between her fingers. She had opted out for a more classy looking chain and some similarly colored charms to hang around it, making it a little harder to notice the swirling shimmer inside the bead.

 

“If she gets to customize hers, I’m changing mine.” Danny pointed at the glinting golden feather and Lydia raised her eyebrows at him.

 

Stiles smiled at her and pushed Danny toward their next class, “Yeah, yeah whatever you want. Just keep it around your neck, it works faster that way.”

 

~~~

 

Stiles slumped into one of the wooden chairs in the library and groaned as loudly as he dared with the librarian already glaring at him like she was medusa incarnate. Danny looked up from his phone nestled into his binder, “Bored already?”

 

Stiles waved a hand lamely, “I was bored after the first ten minutes of school. Cafeteria food sucks, the only things I look forward to are curly fries- even if they’re boring, not crunchy cafeteria fries- and those weirdly delicious square pizzas. And did I mention how unappealing the snacks look here? I’ve found people with  _black_  auras all over the place and for some reason that just screams ‘don’t touch with a thousand foot pole’.”

 

“What has your tail in a twist, Stilinski?” Jackson slapped his books down and joined their table, preceding Lydia who had the decency to at least lay her books on the table. The librarian cleared her throat at them and reinforced her death-willing stare as Lydia lifted her hand and waved her fingers at her. Stiles stared at the ceiling like it would give him the answers he sought and sank further in his seat until his feet were tangled up between Danny’s and the chair the goalie was sitting in.

 

After a few seconds of silence he whined and rubbed his hands over his face, “I talked to Coach. If I want to quit Lacrosse I have to have a signed note from my dad or some kind of excuse signed by a doctor saying I can’t play anymore. And he mentioned pushing the cross country team through the preserve after school- and no I can’t get out of it either, the same stupid excuse. If I just stop going he’s going to take points from Phys-Ed because I’m already registered for both teams and he has them listed as extracurricular assignments.”

 

“Why does it matter if he takes points off of PE?” Jackson flipped his book open and Stiles finally dropped his chin so he could look at the three sitting around him.

 

“Maybe because I want to finish the year as a normal human being and give it the last-ditch effort to I don’t know, get some scholarships, go to a decent college, get away from Beacon Hills for a few semesters so I can actually avoid the special brand of crazy this place brews?” Similar expressions of understanding came around the group as they saw the point of having higher marks.

 

“Failing just one class can be the difference between paying for my dorm and books or paying for absolutely everything. If I even go to a college out of the county. I don’t know I’m kind of juggling the idea of keeping to myself here with online courses and ripping out of here like a bat out of hell.” Stiles pulled Danny’s textbook over to him and grabbed Lydia’s unused pencil to start underlining and circling segments of important information. Not that they had any classwork for the first day, but he needed something a little less looming to focus on. Danny would appreciate his handy work too, unlike a certain gel-spiked blonde sitting catty-cornered from him.

 

“Would your dad sign the note you need to get you out of sports? Or Melissa maybe?” Danny asked, letting Stiles go to town in his book.

 

Stiles' eyes flicked up for a second as he snappily circled a date, “Melissa isn’t a doctor, she’s a nurse. My dad will probably just refuse because he thinks it isn’t actually my choice. I joined Lacrosse originally just to make him proud if I suddenly drop it after getting an official seat on the first line, do you think he’d just let that fly?” Lydia’s hand came to rest on his forearm and he realized he was pressing down too hard on her pencil, “Sorry.”

 

She drummed her fingers against the inside of his arm and he flipped to the next page, “Has he tried to see you at Derek’s?” She watched him scribble in a note in the margins of the textbook. Stiles just pursed his lips for a long moment, letting the words under his pencil drain some of his discomforts.

 

“Once. He wouldn’t come inside, tried to get me to go to the parking lot. I stayed in the entrance of the building and he asked me to come home. And I’m still at Derek’s so you can pretty much figure out how that went over.”

 

“Why Derek’s loft, anyway?”

 

“Hm?”

 

Danny shrugged, “I just figured you might go lay low at Scott’s house. I didn’t know you were already close to Derek.”

 

Stiles tilted his head and aborted an attempt to bring Lydia’s eraser to his teeth when he felt her fingers tighten on his arm, “Derek offered. And as awesome as Melissa is, I don’t think she would approve of the higher bill for feeding all of you, or if I used her couch to make out with the whole group. She’s kind of a conservative. Besides, by being at Derek’s loft everyone comes around him more, the pack gets familiar with each other. It’s kind of a win/win situation.”

 

“Plus they fuck,” Jackson tacked on.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes and pinned him with a long stare, “Jealous that I didn’t come to your door begging you to christen my nest with werewolf sex?” Danny’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, Stiles was sure of it.

 

“You and him?” Danny leaned forward in his chair, “Seriously?! And you’re not sharing those details? I never would have pinned you as the selfish type. You’re supposed to flaunt these things with your peers- especially your gay peers.”

 

Stiles snorted and Jackson made a face, “I don’t want to hear about Stilinski’s sex life. Smelling it was enough.”

 

“Look, besides telling you that it was pretty awesome sex,” Jackson groaned and Stiles pushed on, “I don’t want to treat him like gossip. He was helping me and he gave me a lot of his trust, I don’t want to go back on that you know?”

 

Lydia’s hand gently tugged at the collar of his shirt and he swatted it away, but not before she saw the rest of the red mark that still clung to his neck, “Yeah, I think he gave you more than his trust.” She quirked her lips at him and he pulled his shirt back in place, “Did you give back as well as you were given?”

 

Stiles frowned at her and ran his fingertips over the mark, “Did you forget the part where I’m still learning how to control the whole venom thing? I bite him, he goes night night. Do you know how disappointing sex would be if your partner just fell asleep in the middle of everything?”

 

Lydia turned her attention toward Jackson and nodded slowly, “Pretty disappointing.”

 

Danny covered what Stiles knew was a smirk, and considering the shake of his shoulders, he figured Lydia was probably speaking from firsthand experience. Amusement lit up his eyes as he turned to take Lydia’s perfectly manicured fingers into his own, “Oh you poor woman,” He tisked and rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles, “I may be the king of sleeping in nearly any position, but I would never do that to you. You deserve much more than that.”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes at him and Jackson shot him a nasty look as he sank into his seat, “Shut up, Stiles.”

 

~~~

 

Running this particular trail through the preserve brought back some memories about bear traps and murder that he would have rather not remember. Thankfully Danny was there, running at his elbow and improving his mood while keeping an eye on him. They could hear some of the rest of the team running behind them, not many- two or three tops. Stiles figured they were Kira, Scott and maybe Isaac or Boyd considering their whole supernatural stamina thing going on for them. Well, their stamina and his inability to crush his hunger when he went running apparently.

 

He was doing surprisingly well, all things considered. He wasn’t exactly hungry- at least not for essence, and Danny’s aura had yet to look appetizing, so they kept pushing forward. That didn’t mean his legs weren’t burning and his skin didn’t crawl every time Danny’s forearm brushed past his elbow, “Fucking Jackson, getting off easy because he’s on the swim team,” Stiles groused.

 

Danny laughed beside him and Stiles couldn’t resist the little smile that came with the sound, “Dude, he isn’t even a part of the cross country team. You can’t get pissed at him. Besides, you don’t have to spend hours every game trying to shave for better speeds in the water. The thing about werewolves is that apparently, they’re just as miserably human in water as they were before the bite. And Jackson’s hair grows back at super speeds if he gets amped up.”

 

Stiles released a laugh of his own at the imagery of Jackson grimacing over shaving his legs, only for hair to spring right back up. He stumbled a little as he tried to straighten up, “Come on man, you’re totally trying to sabotage me!”

 

Danny slapped the back of his hand against his arm and Stiles did  _not_ feel his throat tighten with a quiet sound he masked with a pant of breath, “I could totally outpace you if I didn’t have to babysit you. Who says I have to play dirty to beat you?” His dimple popped up with his smirk between one breath and another.

 

“I don’t know,” Stiles started, drawing out the last word a bit, “I think Kira could mop the floor with both of our asses if Scott weren’t giving her puppy eyes the whole time. Besides, I have more stamina now.” He winked at Danny who rolled his eyes at him. Apparently, that was the new way of dealing with Stiles. He should have a contest to see who could roll them harder. Derek probably topped that list.

 

“Speaking of all that stamina, how are you dealing with the whole physical aspect?”

 

“Well, I have a home base for operations. That kind of threw a wrench into my timing, but if you’re asking whether or not I’ve had some strangers over to the loft or if I’ve stashed someone in a closet somewhere, the answer is no.” Man, it was hard to talk and run at the same time, he really wanted to use his hands for something more than keeping his body balanced. “I figure maybe once or twice a week is a good base for testing though.” He certainly was starting to consider changing those arrangements though. A full day of constantly feeling interest twist in his gut every time someone touched him had proven just how not-ready he was for this whole school situation.

 

“Once or twice? And here I thought you’d be a sex fiend,” Danny scoffed. Stiles pushed his shoulder just enough to knock him off kilter, but not to disrupt their companionable run. “What? Come on, when I have a boyfriend it is definitely happening more than twice a week. If my boyfriend were as hot as Derek Hale I’d be climbing that tree  _multiple_  times a day.” Danny groaned at the thought.

 

Stiles’ metaphorical ears perked at the sound, “Trust me, I’ve considered it. If I’m sampling all of the dishes in the kitchen I have to learn some self-control first.” They twisted around the loop that would take them the last stretch back to the entrance where coach Finstock was waiting with a timer in hand. “But since you mentioned it- if you ever get the itch I wouldn’t mind scratching it for you.” He wagged his brows. The suggestion rang more genuine and true in his mind than he thought it would.

 

He figured Danny would take it as a joke or some silly opportunity to tease Stiles about his past passes at the other. He, however, did not expect him to consider it seriously, “I mean it’s been a month or two since I’ve had a roll in the sheets. I wouldn’t mind being chow if you start feeling peckish.”

 

His expression morphed into incredulity, “Dude, it takes turning into another creature for you to seriously consider my offer?” Stiles was completely bewildered. “Four years of ‘do you think I’m attractive’ and a few passing flirtations get me nothing, but being a hungry nightmare monster gets the Danny seal of approval. And dude, months? I thought you had all kinds of connections out there. You have the dimple thing going for you and that whole v neck shirt business has got to be some kind of calling card.”

 

Danny just shrugged, “You need it, I haven’t had it in a while. I figure friends with benefits could be a good relationship here. Besides, just because there are plenty of gay guys around town doesn’t mean that all of them are interesting enough to take back home. You saw one of my exes, you know what I strive for- hell, you even saw Ethan.”

 

His mouth hung open as he thought about it. Would it be so weird? Not really, considering he was going to have to come up with something eventually. Danny wasn’t after a romantic relationship, and come to think of it Stiles wasn’t interested in pursuing one with his dimpled comrade either. At least, not anymore anyway. “I mean, you signed the kissing contract. And I get the whole selective thing; everyone knows I was head over heels for one person for  _years_  so I think I definitely fit that whole ‘super selective category’. I’ll warn you though,” He could see the trees thinning in front of them and knew they were nearly done. Thank god. He turned a brief grin to Danny as he finished his sentence, “I  _do_  like to cuddle.”

 

They grinned at each other for the shared inside joke, “I guess you better pack for the whole night when you come by then.”

 

Stiles turned his head forward again just in time to catch the barest scent of his current obsession. His eyes widened and he lengthened his step just enough to pull ahead of Danny. He heard Finstock yammering on to someone as the path widened out to the main branch. When his eyes landed on Derek he pushed just a little harder and launched himself at the wolf once he was close enough to land his mark. Derek’s brows conveyed his surprise at the attack but he captured him and pivoted on one heel to slow their momentum, swinging Stiles around his body like some kind of flashy dance move.

 

Derek’s hands were around his waist and Stiles’ arms were thrown around his neck, feet dangling in the air as he was spun. He wasn’t really sure why Derek was there, but for some reason, he was far more interested in paying him some attention now that he knew the alpha had been standing at the end of the finish line. He realized he was smiling, arms still tight around the other’s neck as he rested bodily against him, “Dude, if I knew you were going to have to wait for my sweaty ass I would have run faster.”

 

And sweaty he definitely was. His shirt was soaked through around the collar, armpits and even his back had a dark stripe running from between his shoulders down to his lower back. He was certain he smelled absolutely disgusting, and yet Derek was sliding one hand across his back once he was sat back on the ground, hand raking through the wet spot and staying there. Finstock narrowed his eyes at him as Stiles smiled at his coach, “I expect you to run it faster in two weeks then, Bilinski.”

 

Stiles released an explosive sigh and sagged into Derek’s side as the alpha rearranged them, “Come on Coach that was a joke! Why are we going back to the whole Bilinski thing?”

 

Finstock jabbed his pen toward him pointedly, “No whining! We got a late start this year and we need to at least go state this time. If I have to put your boyfriend here on every finish line to make that happen, I’ll find a way to do it!”

 

Stiles cocked his head and looked at Derek’s profile, “Boyfriend, hmm? Well, he is a pretty nice incentive.” Stiles dragged his fingers through a strip of the hair at the back of Derek’s head and smirked when golden-green eyes narrowed at him, “Danny would actually put effort into beating me if he got to see you at the finish line.”

 

Danny choked behind him, sputtering water, “Stiles!”

 

“You, Hale,” Coach’s pen waggled toward Derek, “Support your boyfriend, I want to win this year!”

 

Stiles waved him off and leaned back so he could see around Finstock, “What? You ogled him so hard that time we were lab partners. And let me tell you, he is only getting better.” If his tail were out he was sure he’d be wagging up a storm. Derek’s fingers clutched at him a little more as he leaned closer to Danny to stage whisper, “You should see him doing curls. He was totally showing off when I was making dinner Thursday, and I was definitely enjoying the show. Almost burnt my bacon.”

 

“You used him to get me to help you and all three of us know it. You  _wanted_  me to ogle him,” Danny defended, though that didn’t stop him from eyeing Derek now. Stiles didn’t mind, either. Derek looked smokin’ in a fitted navy blue shirt and his nice black jeans. The short sleeves showed off his arms and the tight fit of his shirt made Stiles want to strip it off of him so he could praise those abs. The pants- well, Stiles tried not to think too much about those pants considering the growing crowd of people and the way it already felt like Derek’s pulse was thrumming into his skin.

 

The rest of their pack members slowly filed in with a few of the other runners, taking Finstock’s attention off of them so he could mark down times. Danny turned away from him so he could drink without immediately feeling parched because of the person he was hanging off of, and Derek ducked his head down so that his mouth was almost against his ear, “Figure out how to get away from everyone before you feel your crash.” Stiles shivered at the vibrations of his voice against his ear. His eyes glinted gold when he looked at the older man and Derek pushed him forward with the hand that had been around his side, “Quickly.”

 

~~~

 

He had a ‘snack’ in the parking lot in the form of one Danny Mahealani, and if he hadn’t been kissing Derek off and on before then he would readily say that Danny had a sinful way of moving his tongue. Let’s be honest, even with kissing Derek, he had a sinful way of moving his tongue. Danny was masterful at kissing. King of Kiss. He went so far as to say so and the Hawaiian had the nerve to blush at the compliment. He graded it as a Grade A+ portion of pucker and was promptly pushed off of Danny where he had sandwiched the other against his Jeep.

 

Worth it, considering the small genuine smile the other boy wore.

 

Thankfully he didn’t take enough from Danny for his new jewelry to spark into action, but he did take enough that Danny needed a ride home. Stiles would have done it himself if he didn’t have Derek looking at him over the hood of his jeep with eyebrows poised in the signature ‘hurry up’ position. So he begrudgingly sat his keys in Isaac’s hand once the beta was near enough, “Be good to my Jeep, okay?” Isaac twirled the key ring around his finger and Stiles almost thought to take it back from him, “Take them all home and use some of the money in the glove box to put a few gallons in the tank if you go past the gas station. I’d really rather not walk to school tomorrow.”

 

Isaac dropped his hand on Stiles’ shoulder and squeezed, “Roscoe is in good hands. Besides, even if you did walk to school you live a lot closer than you did.”

 

Stiles gave him a halfhearted grump but Isaac just slapped his shoulder a little more and turned him toward Derek. Erica pecked him on his cheek and made a face at the taste on her lips, and Danny half waved at him as he climbed into the back seat with Boyd. Isaac passed him his school bags, and Stiles watched them back out of the parking space with more than a few ounces of regret to watch his black and blue baby drive down the road.

 

“Get over here Stiles,” Derek called.

 

“Let me mourn the loss of my car for a second, Derek,” Stiles whined, though he slapped his feet childishly against the gravel littered parking lot on his way over to the Camaro anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, updates may spread out a little more during the next few chapters. I'm running through the chapters that I already had written up and I'm catching up to the ones that I'm currently writing just a little too quick for my tastes, haha. So instead of once a week (like I've been attempting) maybe every other week until I get that buffer of chapters up again? I hope you guys won't mind, but I'd rather do it this way than just let the story die for like... five months, as I've done in a couple of stories in other fandoms.
> 
> But some good news, we find out why Stiles couldn't feed off of Erica in the chapter after next! More lore work soon to come and some nice developments will be coming right around the corner. (:
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me this far. I hope to see you at the finish line when I eventually end this story.


	9. A Development (Authors Note)

So! I said I wasn't going to make you all wait for months for new chapters. I don't plan to do that even now, but as it is, my keyboard has officially given up the ability to sense about seven of my keys. I've lost the use of these keys: R, T, F, G, V, B,  and 5.

 

"How are you writing this then?" You may ask. Well, I have a program that turns handwritten words into text. But that means my writing has slowed down significantly. The time it would take to write maybe 15-20 words by hand could be used to write a whole paragraph. On top of that, it hurts move to write seven pages by hand than it does via keys!

 

"What about a new keyboard? " Wish it were that easy. My laptop is pretty much refusing the two keyboards I already have in my possession.  Drivers can't be found, the device is not working, constantly ejecting it, etc. I have a couple of chapters made up for the story but I'm not happy with them yet so it's going to take a while to edit them and give you all the content you came here for.

 

Hopefully I'll find a way to work around this, but for now, chapters will come at a snail's pace, and I'll try to save up for a desktop! I'll give you all a proper update as soon as possible. With any luck, you'll still want to read my lackluster writing by then, haha.


	10. Lenin & Roe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psssttt. I know it's been a bit of time, but I wanted to wait and post this with some good news!  
> I've found myself a keyboard that is compatible with my laptop and my tablet. This means that I can write on both of them without the irritation of correcting a 'write to text' program or having to spend so long tapping the screen to form words! Gods, I've missed having a keyboard so much, it's like a breath of fresh air finally having one that functions again! However, all of this being said, I will still be taking a while to post up future chapters. I feel like the time between will be a good chance for me to just breathe and make sure I can give you all the content I want to be able to provide! It also gives me a chance to update a few other unfinished projects in between. Think of it as like a round-robin type system.
> 
> But I just wanted to thank you all for being so patient with me and so considerate! Many of you suggested types of keyboards for me to look into and also a few programs to try and I'm super thankful for everything you've done to help me resolve this trouble. I hope this chapter can be considered a kind of 'thank you' as well.
> 
> Anyway! As a quick note about the chapter in particular- there is an explicit divider in this one! For those who don't remember what that looks like, it's -=v=- and -=^=-. The first is to begin a scene, and the second one is to end a scene!

“Umm, Derek? Buddy? This is the wrong floor.” Stiles skipped a few of the last steps despite his legs protesting the extra strain and stride, “Derek?”

 

He watched Derek look over his shoulder and motion him forward with one of his hands as he kept striding down the empty hall. They were two floors down from where Derek’s loft was nestled and from the looks of it, Stiles was about to see something the wolf had probably been working on for the last few months. He found his curiosity winning out as he followed Derek around the next corner to a wide hallway with maybe six doors lining it. Each one was staggered so that no one door was directly in front of the other.

 

Derek’s hand slipped into one of his tight pockets and Stiles watched it with no amount of hidden hunger. There would always be something alluring about a guy putting his hands between the folds of tight-fitting fabric, and now it felt like Stiles was even more keyed to the motions. A fresh set of keys were tugged out by tanned fingers and pushed into the two locks on the door with surprising ease. The resounding click was probably a sound effect his brain made up to go with the motion, but he was already crowding into Derek’s back to get a sneak peek at what Derek was intent on showing him. Well, it was also so he could wrap himself around the wolf and soak in the hums of pleasure that rippled throughout his body from the touch.

 

The door opened up on an apartment, unsurprisingly. A wide living room with two doors on one side, and a similar set of spiral stairs in the furthest left corner to what Derek had in his loft. If Stiles were honest with himself the layout was almost exactly like Derek’s, with the steel beams piercing the floor and stretching far into the ceiling. A long skinny loft above their heads with a black lacquered metal railing stretching across the open wall tempted him to climb the stairwell. Two doors were cracked open slightly to his right and the windows directly across from the door were clean and cracked open as well. A warm breeze from outside wafted around the living space and Stiles leaned into it, smelling Derek on the wind.

 

“Dude, this is cool, it’s almost like your place.” They stepped inside and Stiles unglued himself from the werewolf’s back so he could snoop around a little more. He could spy a couple of bookshelves on the lofted area and was nearly halfway to the spiral stairs before Derek’s warm hand clasped around the back of his neck and steered him instead toward the two doorways. “Aw, what, no Incubus allowed on the second floor?”

 

Derek rolled his eyes and pushed Stiles forward again, motioning to the door on the left of the rightmost wall, “You can go up there after, Stiles.”

 

The incubus gave one more longing, curious look to the black railing before he dropped his bags at his feet and snuck over to the door. The windows were open here too, but what caught his attention more were the billows of sheer fabric tangled up in the breeze. Almost transparent silver curtains were accented with wide panels of blue steel cotton and dark swaths of gunmetal satin as they twisted around one another in the renewed breeze. They all framed the sides of a four-poster bed big enough to fit three people very comfortably on it. He walked forward to the footboard and sat his hands on the cool, dark colored wood. Derek’s scent clung to the pillows; like he had brought some from his own bed and placed them there. Stiles licked his lips and looked over his shoulder, turning slightly to see Derek filling the doorway. “What is this supposed to be?”

 

“It’s a bed, Stiles.”

 

Stiles narrowed his eyes in exasperation, knowing he should have expected the snark. Derek continued after a moment with a slow, deep breath, “You needed a place with privacy, right? And while technically this isn’t your nest, you need somewhere that you think is safe to bring back your conquests.” Derek’s tone told him what he thought of those who would be here in this bed with Stiles wrapped around them. It certainly wasn’t a pleasant idea to the wolf, but the teen didn’t really expect it to be an easy thing to get used to for himself either. Not even two months ago he thought that he would eventually get his happily ever after of a monogamous relationship and maybe a few dogs to run around in the yard by the time he was twenty-six. Thinking about that now, his stomach twisted at the idea.

 

Stiles slowly turned back to the room and noticed the matching end tables on either side of the bed. A staggered set of candle holders sat on their lacquered surfaces and framed the bed, followed by quite a few standing candelabras with fresh unscented candles pierced onto each spiked dish. He had to wonder where Derek found them- not the candles but just all of the furniture in general. The four poster bed was a little feminine if he were honest. He had a feeling that someone else had donated the frame or his ‘cause’ as it were. Lydia probably (definitely) hung the curtains around it to satisfy her desire to use the bare frame and to try and give Stiles some form of privacy if anyone ever stepped into the room while he was _busy_.

 

“I own the building. I can’t exactly pay for electricity on every floor, but a few apartments tied into a couple generators isn’t too difficult,” Stiles nodded his head in understanding, still trying to wrap his head around this place. There was an area rug under his feet to protect from the hardwood flooring, probably because Stiles had complained earlier about how cold concrete was when he had to climb out of Derek’s bed of the mornings. While there wasn’t a closet, someone has pulled a nice dresser into one of the corners. “What do you think?”

 

He faced Derek and leaned against the footboard once he was fully turned around with a slow inhale filling his chest. Derek stepped further into the room until Stiles swore the toes of their shoes scuffed against one another. He didn’t really think he had to ask, but he did anyway just for the sake of clarity, “Are you moving me out of your loft?”

 

“No,” Warm hands grasped his hips and Stiles’ eyes fluttered when he found the slow rhythm of Derek’s thumbs rubbing into the skin above each curved bone. “I’m not telling you to move out.”

 

“So this is just for when I shag other people?” He asked voice slightly lower. What? Derek was _doing things_ to him and his libido was still very much active.

 

“Or if you need time to yourself,” Derek amended. Stiles often snuck out onto the narrow balcony in Derek’s apartment when he needed a little time to himself without being too far away from the people who brought him comfort. He knew Derek had noticed, but he didn’t expect to be given a living space to compensate for it, “But it is also for me.”

 

Stiles’ eyes found Derek’s face again and he saw how those green irises swam over his face in a quick dart, “Because if you bring someone to _our_ bed,” The teen’s throat tightened slightly at the stress put on ‘our’. It made his heart twist and skip in a way he thought wouldn’t have been possible after his obsession with Lydia, “I might do something we’ll both regret. As much as I want to be able to accept that you need this to survive, a part of me wants to keep you entirely for myself.”

 

Derek’s eyes flashed red and Stiles’ own golden rimmed pupils made a short appearance. It was almost like they were answering Derek’s call- whatever it might have been, “So you bring them here,” Derek’s fingers slid under his shirt and cradled his ribs, curled around to brand into his shoulder blades as he leaned in even closer, “And when you finish what you need to do, you come back to our bed.”

 

“This is escalating quickly,” Stiles murmured. Not that he seemed to mind. There was something about Derek being the first one to admit that he wanted to be with him that eased the ache between his shoulders. If he were honest with himself though, this wasn’t exactly moving as quickly as he thought. They had been dancing around each other for the better part of two years now, Stiles was kind of surprised he hadn’t caved and confessed to Derek before the wolf took that struggle from him.

 

He let his hand drag up Derek’s forearm, around the outside of his bicep and squeeze just past the hem of his sleeve, “But I like it. Kind of noticing a new kink here, actually.” He grinned and Derek raised his eyebrows at him like he expected Stiles to elaborate.

 

Stiles raised his other hand and let his fingers tangle behind Derek’s neck as he cocked his head to the side, just enough to make his warm brown eyes almost glow beta gold in the light from the window, “You know, the one where I get to make my boyfriend insanely jealous so he’ll claim me all over again. Hmmm, or maybe we can go out and you can help me with the whole ‘what do you think about that guy? What about this girl?’ thing where you give me your approval so you can watch me make out with them or drag them off somewhere for a quicky. Yeah, I think I like that one too,” He smiled at Derek’s resulting frown.

 

Derek pulled him in until they were lined up against one another, his green eyes burning into red as Stiles kept his eye contact, “And I’d come back to you, so you can keep doing your whole scent marking thing, show them that while they had a fun time with me, I’ll always have more with you. Show them that they can’t have me like you have m-”

 

Derek’s mouth is against his, fierce and strong and demanding. Stiles gasped against it and Derek explored him until Stiles felt like the world was slipping away around him. The ground was gone from beneath his feet, the pleasant peachy glow from the window faded from his eyelids. All he could focus on was his wolf, strong and grumbling against him as though Stiles had actually followed through with the thought already.

 

He wanted to stay there and bask in it. Melt into the way Derek’s arms were like bands of steel against his torso, strong and protective and possessive. He wanted to pull Derek around the bed so they could be the first to muck up the sheets, embed the alpha’s scent and flavor into the clean linen. He groaned softly when he forced himself to slowly back out of the kiss, not able to completely stop himself from pressing more over Derek’s lips, his chin, his jaw, “Mmm, shower-” He breathed, “Smell like BO- don’t wanna- wash you off- of me.” Derek returned the touches just as easily, scrubbing his stubble against Stiles’ cheek, the edge of his jaw.

 

The low growl he was gifted stirred his arousal more, “Join me?” He almost purred, nosing the shell of Derek’s ear as the other laved a long stripe of saliva up the side of his neck. He definitely tasted like sweat and whatever else his body secreted when he was running but Derek just did it again, punctuating it with a bite over those two moles just behind the corner of his jaw. Stiles’ knees quivered and his hands clenched hard on Derek’s shoulders.

 

“Yes,” Derek’s voice was husky and rumbled so beautifully that Stiles felt an appreciative noise float up his throat.

 

He toed off his shoes as he pushed into Derek, walked him back to the door as they exchanged kisses. Pieces of clothing were shed between them, falling on the floor, catching on the corner of the dresser, tripping them up when Derek’s boots were discarded. When they passed through the bedroom doorway he caressed Derek’s chest and twisted around him to slink over to the bathroom. His honey brown eyes flicked toward the ajar front door as he walked backward to the cracked bathroom door.

 

“Close and lock that, I’ll start the shower,” His eyes raked over Derek appreciatively as he hovered in the doorway, watching the alpha strut to the door with intent in every step. Jeans drug just partially down his hips, fully unzipped and proving that Derek Hale did indeed go commando when he wanted to. _God, he was beautiful._

 

He slipped into the new room and flicked the light switch once he found it, stopping long enough to appreciate the effort Derek had gone through just for him to be comfortable. The bathroom was almost completely remodeled; the tiles around the shower were new with pristine grout expertly filling the gaps between beautiful deep teal glass subway tiles. They caught the light in a way that almost made them glow like gemstones in sunlight. The old black, white and grey hexagonal tiles on the floor had been scrubbed clean all across the bathroom and Stiles found himself appreciating the fact that they didn’t have any discernable pattern to them. He had thoughts about that stand-alone porcelain tub just in front of the shower, but he didn’t have patience enough to wait for the basin to fill. The fixtures to the shower were brushed brass, almost golden and standing out beautifully against the new tiles. Tiles that wrapped around to a short hip-high wall on one side and the even shorter lip on the last open side to keep the water from spilling into the room.

 

Stiles’ fingers hooked into the last of his clothing as he walked toward it. He shimmied out of the briefs and kicked them toward the hamper by the door as he turned the knobs, the water sputtered at first and then quickly built pressure. It was fucking ice cold, but Stiles stood under the spray as he adjusted the temperature, aware of the warm body that slipped in behind him shortly after he had braced himself for the cold spray. Broad hands caused him to lose his focus for a moment as they swept over his shoulders, gentle but strong as they wrapped around his biceps and followed the lean muscle down to his elbows.

 

A stubble-covered mouth pressed to the back of one shoulder and his eyes fluttered, “One more second,” He could hear the whine in his own voice as he rushed to make that one final adjustment to the temperature.

 

Before he could be certain he had it just perfect, he turned to face Derek and cupped his jaw in both hands, pulled him forward to lock their mouths together like he hadn’t just been kissing him two minutes ago. Someone rumbled and he wasn’t sure who the guilty party was but he didn’t much mind; Derek was crowding him in against the wall of the open shower, pushing his back against the cold glass tiles which made him yelp at the sudden chill. There were hands stroking down his sides, over his stomach, across his thighs. He returned the favor and swept his hands down Derek’s neck, fanned his fingers over his shoulders, felt the drizzle of water tip-tap over his knuckles as he smoothed his palms against the defined muscles that made up Derek’s back. He reversed the pattern until he was resting his arms between them, hands on Derek’s chest.

 

When Derek diverted to once again nuzzle into his neck, Stiles took a second to find the shampoo to his left in the corner. He stretched his hand over to it and pumped out a dime-sized amount before he raised it up to Derek’s head. His fingers massaged the product into a blue-tinged lather while Derek melted into him, a low rumble tattooing its way from Derek into Stiles’ ribs. He smiled and carded his hand through the frothy mess once or twice before urging Derek to lean back under the spray. The wolf obeyed with eyes closed and neck fully extended in front of him. Stiles’ heart fumbled the quick-beat tempo it had been trying to keep as he looked at the beautiful stretch of skin.

 

He tentatively leaned forward and brushed his closed lips to the hollow of Derek’s collarbones, soft and so feather-light he was worried Derek didn’t feel it. But then there was a hand behind his head, pulling him closer, pressing Stiles’ nose into the thrumming pulse point on Derek’s neck, another pleased grumble coming from the wolf as Stiles groaned. He ran his mouth over Derek’s neck, soft and experimental nips carefully dotting the points where Derek’s burnt-sweet scent was strongest. His skin also tasted like soap but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to care. Derek was baring his throat to him- Derek _wanted_ Stiles to touch it, to bite, to kiss.

 

The hand in his hair started to rub circles against his scalp, joined by the other and the cool gel texture of shampoo. He hummed softly and leaned into the touch, eyes closed as he enjoyed the short minute of time that someone played with his hair. They traded positions so that he was under the warm spray and Stiles released Derek long enough to scrub the suds out of his locks.

 

Derek, however, did not let him go. No, he was efficient as he lathered up a pump of body wash over Stiles’ chest. He scrubbed away the smell of his run from his skin and his calloused hands ran over his exposed pits with a chuckle as Stiles tried to squirm away from him. Derek even followed the trails of soap down Stiles’ stomach and pushed them around his hips until those greedy paws squeezed at either side of Stiles’ ass.

 

Stiles keened and peeled his eyes open to look at the wolf, swallowing when he spied Derek’s red gaze burning over him. “Like what you see?” Stiles purred, bringing his hands down onto Derek’s chest and pushing him further against the wall so he could step into his personal space. A low rumble answered him and Stiles looked away long enough to find the bottle Derek just used before he was returning the sentiment to his wolfy shower-mate. He smiled with hooded eyes as he painted tanned skin in a clean scented lather, not that Derek had actually needed to be clean- he wasn’t the one who sweat buckets earlier.

 

-=v=-

 

His eyes followed his hands, the limbs mirroring themselves in their motions as he drug soap trails down Derek’s collarbones, over his chest. Brown eyes came back up to lock on Derek’s red gaze as he pressed his thumbs into the subtle dip of Derek’s hips. He followed it out to his sides and then flattened his hands on the stroke back toward the center of his body. His wolf arched into the touch, and tensed when Stiles took his dick into his hand. He pumped twice. Slowly. Derek’s jaw dropped just enough that Stiles could see the crack of space between his lips. “You’re beautiful, you know,” He murmured appreciatively.

 

There was no way to tell if Derek’s ears and chest were red from the steaming shower or from his compliment but Stiles decided he would try to find out later with a few more appropriately timed words and touches. His head thumped back against the wall and Stiles leaned in to kiss the corner of his jaw softly, “I’m so lucky,” he pressed another kiss under the shelf of Derek’s cheekbone as he kept his slow and steady pace with his hand, “That you want me, that you want to take care of me, that you are willing to put up with my needs.” He circled his thumb around the tip of Derek’s dick and squeezed slightly.

 

Derek whined and gripped his shoulders where his hands had stopped once Stiles started touching him. “I would rather be jealous that other people get to touch you whenever they wanted,” His hips rolled into Stiles’ hand and the incubus stroked again. Stiles used his other hand to rub Derek’s balls and the wolf growled as his fingers flexed over his shoulders. His own interest thrummed against the side of his wrist as he focused on his task. He wanted Derek to understand just how much he appreciated what was being done for him, he wanted to make Derek feel the way he had felt every day after they sullied the wolf’s sheets.

 

“If I were the old me and had it my way, you would be the only one in my bed,” Stiles admitted, leaning in to press his mouth against Derek’s chin, nipping it just hard enough to pinch. He released his hold on Derek with one more upward drag and pulled another pump of body wash from the bottle. He shifted himself down onto his knees as his hands rubbed the glob of soap into another round of lather before he ran them over Derek’s strong, hairy legs. He kept his eyes on Derek’s face as he soaped up his calves, his shins, his knees. Derek’s dick hung in front of his face and Stiles flicked his tongue over his lips as he considered doing more.

 

By the time his hands made it back up to Derek’s thighs where he had initially started, he was leaning up on his knees with his toes curled into the tiles, heels jabbing sharply into the air behind him. He shamelessly rubbed his face over the valley between Derek’s leg and pelvis now that his arousal was more than just eye level and chittered happily as he sucked in a breath of that enamoring scent. The hands that had gone lax at the wolf’s side surged forward to hold his shoulders, and Stiles looked back up at him with a grin. He turned his head forward and kissed a path up from base to tip, feeling it pulse against his lips. He only got one lick in before Derek was hauling him up onto his feet with a deep, reverberating growl. There was a strong taste on his tongue that made him moan, and he wished he had been allowed a few more seconds there to savor him and find out what this new taste reminded him of.

 

“Why don’t you ever let me finish,” He whined.

 

“Because I want you under me when you look like this,” Derek’s grumbling voice answered. It brought a small needy sound out of him that Stiles was not ashamed to let the other hear. “I haven’t even had a chance to fully touch you and already you look like you could fall apart.”

 

“Trust me,” Stiles leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to the high point of Derek’s cheek, “I would be happy to oblige you more than once. Let me finish.”

 

Derek’s nose grazed against his ear, followed by a warm breath, “Next time.” The promise in Derek’s voice split Stiles’ face into a pleased grin.

 

They traded one last time, with Derek pushing Stiles’ chest against the now warm glass tiles so he could scrub Stiles’ back clean as one last show of their _perfect_ control between one another. He wanted to skip that part altogether but Derek’s hands each grabbed at his ass and squeezed again, like some kind of silent promise that he would reward him for his patience. And Stiles was being patient- as patient as he could be after having his nerves racked all day with physical touches he wasn’t allowed to follow through with at school.

 

Really, Stiles wasn’t opposed to being fucked against the wall, but for some reason or another, he wanted them in the bed, rolling around each other. He wanted to wrap himself in Derek and sex and make that room absolutely reek of them. So when Derek stepped out of the shower, Stiles turned himself under the spray just long enough to rise off the suds and turn the water off.

 

Derek met him with a clean towel, swept it over his neck and followed it with his mouth as he ran it down his spine. The scrape of stubble left Stiles’ skin pink and red and had him aching even more for the alpha wolf who indulged himself with drying Stiles off. The urgent feeling in his body ebbed long enough to let Derek do what he wanted, to let the wolf take care of him as his instincts insisted he do. He even let his hands linger on Derek’s waist, fingers twitching against him as he resisted doing what he wanted. The phantom taste on his tongue taunted him and pulled small chittery sounds from his chest the longer they stood there when he could be kneeling in front of Derek again and tasting _more._

 

Thankfully his wolf relented and pulled him flush against his body again, mouths slipping against each other as he held Stiles by his neck and hip, walking them toward the door at a languid pace. The friction of the towel wrapped around Derek’s waist wasn’t quite what he wanted but Stiles found himself rolling against it anyway.

 

Someone remembered to turn off the light on the way- or maybe they left it on? Stiles just knew that his mind went foggy when he had Derek against him, leading him.

 

He teased out a curl of red smoke from Derek’s mouth with a pleased groan and fed him an even slighter wisp of gold that tightened the hold on his skin. He did it again and received a whine, low and needy as it swirled the tension growing in his belly. They fell into bed with a rush of breath and maybe, just maybe Stiles was in love with how Derek burned into him, every bit of exposed skin warmed through from his unnatural heat. He felt almost high from all of the contact knowing that with this person he didn’t have to restrain himself to friendly touches if he didn’t want to.

 

Fingers crept over his arms and pulled them up over his head, laced between his own digits as they pressed his hands against the mattress. Derek sucked his lower lip into his mouth and ran sharply pointed fangs over it reverently. Stiles shuddered and squeezed his restraints with a hot puff of breath and fluttering lashes.

 

“Promise me that you won’t do that with anyone else when you bring them here,” Derek’s low, breathy voice raked goosebumps over his body.

 

Stiles took a moment to look up at him, to watch him as he watched his mouth like he wanted to swoop in and claim it again like he needed to devour him to earn his answer. Stiles rubbed his thumbs over the backs of Derek’s hands reassuringly, “Only if it is an emergency.” He squeezed again and licked his lips, “I promise.”

 

“Good.”

 

Derek leaned into him again and touched his lips to his chin as he unlinked their hands long enough to pry Stiles’ bracelet off of his wrist. He arched into Derek’s body as his tail unfurled from its mystical hiding place beneath him, eager to waiver and squirm against the water dappled sheets for him. Stiles’ hands descended on the towel now barely clinging to Derek’s waist and he grinned as he flung it off of the Were, “Tit for tat,” He announced. “Now come here, I’m tired of waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cut off! I figured I drug this on long enough, lol. I didn’t want to focus too much on the sex, and the explicit divider was more of a courtesy thing. If anyone thinks it needs to be placed earlier in the story, let me know and I’ll look back to see if it’s appropriate! Thank you again for reading my silly ideas and for being here while this story gets updated! I appreciate each and every one of you! ^^


	11. Yet Another Development (Author's Note #2)

Hey guys! Just to be clear, I'm not dropping this story in the slightest- just in case you're worried that's what this is about!

 

I've had a lot of family issues recently- in short, we'll just say that my grandmother had a stroke and discovered she has cancerous tumors growing through some pretty vital areas. We've moved her in with us and have been taking care of her full time as she goes through chemotherapy and her previous rounds of radiation, as well as her physical therapy. So, basically, I've turned into an at-home nurse with a specialization in providing balance, support, and insulin, haha. To those of you who have this job with many more requirements, I applaud you for your patience and kindness and strength mentally, physically, and emotionally! You guys rock and I have no idea how you manage to do it.

 

That being said, I've had to put a big pause on a lot of the things I enjoy doing in my downtime (because right now I don't really have any downtime) and this includes writing and art. I haven't been able to work on this story in months and I worry that you guys might think because of the lack of updates (and apparently my constant excuses) that I'm not invested in making this last and give it a good ending. I want to work on it with everything in me- I miss this story and I miss the other that I was working on alongside this. Whenever I get a free moment, however, I barely get my head on the pillow before my eyes are shut. I'm exhausted. This has been great helping me build stamina again after being severely anemic throughout 2017 and the start of 2018, but whoo boy, it makes my body hurt and my brain malfunction lol.

 

I hope that you guys can have a little patience with me though. I know I've been terrible at keeping this up to date. I'm determined to write the rest and finish it appropriately, I promise. Just you know, stick around and enjoy the chapters whenever I'm able to throw something together!

 


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